You say that you have lost your sense of self,
been sundered into pieces, scattered, strewn…
You ask me how you might collect yourself.
I wish I knew a method to rejoin
your broken bits. Instead, I’ll offer this.
If you were free to leave this Earth and roam
the depths, and with the solar wind could fly
beyond the planets and the comet-clouds,
you then might glimpse the truths that some deny.
When lost within the interstellar dark,
or even out between the galaxies,
there’s still that foam that bubbles up from naught
and gives you substance, likewise giving birth
to all that swirls and feeds the fiery dance.
And in the interstices, you might find
the workings of that universal mind –
the Brahma of the pantheists – that bears
the Yahweh-Allah feared by Abraham...
That desert god was jealous, as were those
the Greeks had placed upon Olympus high.
And if indeed the gods are judged by what
is deemed as their creation, surely then
they’re all a heartless bunch of nincompoops.
And yet, perhaps, within the endless void,
on seeing distant lights that flare and die,
you’d come to hear the murmuring of those,
who still persist in asking, “Why, oh why?”
And if there be an answer, you’d return
and share with mortals what that reason is.
And if there isn't, or it can’t be known,
you still might tell your tales of wondrous things
to us, who’re bound by our terrestrial birth.
To travel out, upon a flare, and see
our local sphere – and then, the dark, to view –
to turn towards the fading sun and be
where nothing is – might bring you back to you…
You’re lost and scattered? So, the atoms are.
The light is speeding out to who knows where.
And yet, amidst that chatter – hear the song.
The atoms chant in all their alto keys.
You’re born to die – and yet you still belong.
So why such travels out, to realms of cold?
Why leave your planet’s womb to course the dark?
Such ventures, you might leave to natures bold,
and turn to journeys inwards, on this ark…
For all the truths you might discover there,
beyond the planets and the cloud of Oort –
You'll find them here, upon this spinning Earth
and in that self that viewing can dissolve –
to leave that void that still gives birth to all...
So I have offered you a dream and then
have told you that it's worth is null and naught,
except perhaps to see the trap in which
the ones who're lost and those who're found are caught.