You know we can feel like we are alone on
the twenty-first floor of a highrise; and we want to
jump out of the window to test our wings; and our legs
are firmly strapped to the ground. And even if we climb
higher we can’t be spaceships in an instant!
I am just forlorn listening to the oneway whistle of time
It is like a burden, not only historians carry. How silent we are of
the stillness of timeless experience. There are no wormholes
on the horizon! And the confusion of ever-aspiring leads to war!
It is only conflict that is the mother of invention! And for all
my spelling I am just an obtuse tirade. Like prophets whose words
are locked in Bibles that are never read; or misinterpreted by
historians to mislead posterity. It hasn’t gotten into our dense heads that
gravity is a foregone conclusion. Do you think you can master time,
even as they are saying events in the present alter the past?!
What evidence have they based it on – a quantum of quarks?
I am nonchalant as a breeze that starts somewhere and ends somewhere,
If that is all the historicity left in the world. A sun can swallow everything
up to the heliosphere! And a blackhole can do that to an entire shimmering
of galaxies all at once. Even if we are at the corner of the universe,
can we be unnoticed by a Universal deviousness? Can all the greatest messiahs
we muster up be made of sterner stuff than that?
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