ON THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF FINDING SATISFACTORY ANSWERS

                                                                                            Wow!  A galaxy!
                                                                   ~the poet, looking through a telescope at M82

First, Vision, that homunculus
before its tiny screen.
Who watches it?

Then the Soul, a vagabond
trapped in a meat machine.
What accounts for it?

Warblers, grasses, termites, cats,
stones and trembling trees–
any reason to believe

life’s simpler for them?
Mind:  one mind, our mind,
hive mind—O

never mind, for none
can comprehend the ticking
of ten thousand things,

the wheel shaping
and unshaping itself
through probability’s infinity.

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