09 December 2014

Four Hundred and Thirty-Eight


There is nothing in this world or any other that must or can be continued.
The eternal moment is, with or without a manifest dream,
So, Pilgrim, where are you in all this?

* * * *
Every culture, no matter the size, no matter the capacity,
Must inevitably succumb to the consequences
Of every success, of every failure,
In its synergistic dream.

* * * *
The universe is the aggregate of all things quantum,
And prior to and beyond all that,
Well, you.

* * * *
If I exist, it is possible that you do, as well.
If I do not exist, then how can you?
And visa-versa on both counts.
Strange thing, this quantum sandcastle.

* * * *
Rage on if you must, but to what end?
What can unbound destruction
Ever hope to create?

* * * *
The dream births you,
Attends you,
Feeds and clothes you,
Gives you pleasure, inflicts pain,
With every intention of someday killing you.
And you, in return, believe it all real.

* * * *
What is wealth, what is not wealth?
Has a nugget of gold really any more value
Than the ocean-born mystery of a tiny grain of sand?

* * * *
What a near-infinity of hooks the universe begats
To perpetually seduce you into its illusory, delusional reality.
A streaming web of sensory-inspired passions of every imaginary flavor.