A living mathematics


12

Life is a mob of music
the sky and memories
full of bodies and wood
the feeling of watching

others, as if we existed
separately, the virtualization
of difference, the illusion
of diversity, the impression

of individualization, but
all the notes move together
in a cadence that is a pattern
where all the variables follow

predictable algorithms
it doesn’t take a computer to
see, life is a volume of designed
potential, impatient for itself

to manifest, for a brief vistas
of glory and effort, to simulate
something of the journey
and evolve a kind of ambiguity

of the summation of experience
which is invariably limited
to conditions imposed upon
the manifestation, and the living

would be speaking
in a kind of daze to itself
sounds over space, that join
to form some brief relevance

like a page of Euclid, a
trajectory of something that
once seemed important or
at least a step forward

In the diction without
A manuscript, a semantics
Of how to breath and what
To want, and how to possess

The moment better, as if
We didn’t all want the same things.

I fumbled at my nerves on Earth


40

I am a living acre without design
an apparent order of action in anonymity
this wind and sun are my neighbors here
i yet attain a shadow or of a squirrel

a silent truce with general nature
and the idea of a plan, severely retarded further
by the poignant excess of luxuries to the few –
I am a living care of temporary possession

an apparent cause of love in union
this landscape and tree are my playmates here
i yet attain a shadow or an art of flower
a silent truce with universal chance

it might be famine all around, but we still
live from smile to smile, by happiness
and small wonders fed, the years
i have been without a home.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/girl-emotion-401831549