13 July 2015

Four Hundred and Seventy-Three


There are no followers in the journey toward wisdom and beyond.
One may peruse the many thoughts of those who have come and gone before,
But the expedition into the great unknown is, as it has ever been, a unqualified solo act.

* * * *
When has the awareness ever seen more than an ever-changing reflection
Of any eyes through which it is has peered out upon its given universe?

* * * *
Physics is physics, chemistry is chemistry, biology is biology.
The rules to game are set, and how else could it be?
Play well, or suffer the consequences.

* * * *
History tends to raise winners to pedestals,
And spin losers to denigrated, even vilified obscurities.
The true histories, well, how many, if not all,
Are long lost in the sands of time?

* * * *
How big is big?  How small is small?
Scientists, mathematicians, and other bean counters,
Always adding zeroes to every end,
To what end?

* * * *
In all its interminable forms and concepts,
The idolatry to which the monkey-mind is prone
Shares across the board the same absurdity.

* * * *
A world jam-packed with inane choices
To which alternative thinking is looked at askance,
And often times with violent aversion.

* * * *
What is the universe, but very tiny, very brief sparkles,
In the grand infinity of the inexplicable eye of awareness.

* * * *
Science that does not flow with nature is not science.
Science that manipulates nature to unnatural ends is not science.
Science that generates mayhem and destruction upon the garden is not science.