The Universe Is Not Ideas
. . The universe is not ideas
That gloom within the brain,
Cram into convoluted spaces
And memorize themselves into more perplexed complexity
The universe is one round winged beam one with itself.
We humans are the demons of complexities.
We are the bearers of brain.
We are the haunted ones.
We think in gray pools of thought,
Reflections of the earth
Diving deeper as we grow.
Shadows of ghostly waters
A clout in an ocean of thinner air.
But one day this life will die and we will rise,
A shimmering mist.
Powered by the universe
We will blow the clouds
And then the stars asunder.
Light widening forever away,
Uncluttered by usual matter,
Above the rubble of mortal thought
Blown on and on.
Like a fish deferred of water,
Like a bird awing in airless space,
Blown on and on.
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