All becomes linked, eventually;
our minds not as free as we think
in the winding of sunken pathways,
connections seen only from above,
hidden to our consciousness —
lying awake for many nights
seeing the traceries of the waving limbs,
wind tossed, outside and moonlit.
All the wordy images dreaming are linked;
my toy bear to the smell of the real.
All the benign and fearful thoughts,
from dissimilar verses are the same.
Truth is not apparent, colored natures
flowing unseen, within brief pleasures.
Mathematics looking for reality;
in tea leaved string theory,
or the twists of quantum gravity,
where is time, and where before?
The fingers pierce the mirror glass
liquid to the touch as we may pass
into the intricacies of thought,
profound, mundane similarities.
Symmetries of nature demand a before
this time, for time to be. Oh, mind
Oh this simple complexity
bedevils us to retreat to one thought
and gives up to believe in God, as we were taught..
Mirrors contain reverse realities;
the left and right, good and evil
contend within a montage
of reflections, truth and untruth.
Magic crystal ball futures
enfolded, / all mirage,
fleeting, / on horizons of introspection.
The albatross does not land today
scooping from the sea quickly
sustenance, and we are seen
small by this ariel majesty
leaving questions unanswered
Which image in the glass is real
right or left, or the love we feel.
Kent Bowker 24 March 2013