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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Which paradise is not the elusive chimère? …how long does it take to live one life…learn the lessons of a lifetime…find the time to live…find the time to sort things out…know what you did was wrong…know in whom lay the blame…what court hears your plea over your unwanted unwilled birth…who is there to tell you here is where you went wrong in the choices you made…take you by the hand and tell you this is not your making…this is all a dream…a dream that’ll never come true… what… is the maker a masochist…to what enduring purpose have you been asked to join the rest… would you want sex if you knew who you would put into this world… is there a crime more despicable than the life you engender into a world you cannot foresee… can you live as long as your progeny to protect them from the torture your genes prepare them for… can you provide for the unforeseen… for the dark that awaits you…your own faults visited on some one else you could never have conceived in thought…since the yonder is dark unknowable for all you know empty why continue… what ultimate purpose aeons from now affects you… is there a purpose to purpose…we search and search and see far enough only to be told we are getting closer and closer to the truth… nearer and nearer to the eternal truth… the one single formula to explain it all… the unified theory of theories… only to be told in between lie the dark matter the black holes three times the known dimensions of worlds hidden within unfathomable worlds of universes buried beyond sight beyond thought… all exploding colliding intermingling intersecting in the unreachable distance that may have been but never probably was…that the infinitely tiniest world releases the infinitely bigbangish universe… who is to believe we’re going anywhere… who is to believe we are going some place…can you conceive of anything of anybody of anybeing of any self-making engine who/which can create an ounze of space let alone the mighty exploding skies hidden within the atoms… can you conceive of a plan so complex so minute so self-propagating so complete so thorough from time immemorial to time eternal from the ends of the endless space which could have inhabited some mighty self-sufficient all-mightiness…and yet it is true… it must be true…how else can you explain this eternal laila this eternal ephemeral-ness this eternal dance…nadaraja stomping twisting flailing his six arms in all six pairs of eye-directions…siva the destroyer…siva the adept dancer…siva the twelve to twenty-nine strings dancing vibrating in dimensions unseen to the eye… IT is there to be seen and be wondered at to be felt and to be suffered to be thought of and to keep thinking about to be befuddled about and to be flabbergasted by… to know that IT exists… touch yourself and you touch the IT… think you’re touching and you’re the IT thinking… but spread your fingers and cry abacradabra… no matter materialises no ready-made canvass no finished book no symphony drivels drops drips from your fingers… is this a mystery… is this a joke… if i’m part of the IT why is there no nothing at my command… are we then part of the IT… can we be part of the IT… or is the IT split into smithereens… no more the IT… no more the creating preserving destroying omnipotent IT the dancing Nadarajah the thundering Rudra the wailing Vayu the slaughtering Kali the admonishing Krishna the cool beneficent Vishnu…is the IT then in need of its sundered parts…must we all come to gather come together to save the IT and put IT back into place… put IT back in ITS self-conceiving womb never again to see the light of the Brahma Day…is the IT in need of all the consciousnesses IT split into to constitute ITS once inconceivable consciousness…is this the Christian redemption… is this the Arabian heaven watered by streams of milk by date-palms… oases… to the sound of the singing of seventy-two virgins…nay…succulent dates…’a book of verse/a jug of wine/and thou singing beside me in the wilderness/and the wilderness is paradise enow//” …is this the Buddhist nirvana… is this the Taoist-Stoic submission to the ways of Nature…if not what purpose is there to a finalising finite world… what purpose is there to extending a quest for betterment when the Aztec sun drunk with human blood never rises again…when suns quasars galaxies universes are all doomed to be exploded out of their orbits… what purpose to so much human suffering and animal and insect and plant degradation…but gaseous-mineral stoicness…. Abstracted from T. Wignesan. Ice in my Eyes…Paris, 2004-06, pp. 308-310. © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016.
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