Thursday, January 21, 2010


My attempt to create a materialist mysticism.

As the flaming embers of the roaring
Fire burn and rise high in the air
Tumbling and panicking before the storm.
Caught within the uprising vortex
Gyre and gimble mass of heated air.
High into the air, drifting without
Reason, without instinct, caught
In the wild battering chaos.
And then long away in another time
Unknown to the roaring fire flames
Storm, the ember falls, flutters
To the ground. Falling onto the right
Conditions, the tinderbox of dried
Out dessication, igniting,
Flames dancing. Even so do the ideas
Of the lost, dead, burnt books flutter
Fragments and half contextualised
Critiques of second hand hearsay
Across the generations to flame
The old errors into new growth.
Like the singed leaves, the smoldering
Strips of bark fall onto the slopes
Of watered hills, even so do the half
Forgotten ideas fall, fertilising
The rich soil of enquiring.

A body of matter cannot disappear completely.
It only changes its form, condition, composition,
Color and other properties and turns into
A different complex
Or elementary matter.

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