here is reality behind that which is beheld.
We think, therefore it is.
Distance is a measure of words,
weight is the dichotomy of being and nothingness,
and time is counted out in cigarettes and cups of coffee.
Meaning and absurdity are sisters,
born of sentience and civilization,
destined to die as us, live as us.
Thoughts are faster than action,
travel farther than light, sound and stone.
Flesh is a clumsy container for infinity.
Why then, is it, that
the body remembers
what the mind forgets?
Singapore, 17 March 2007
The mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its former dimensions. I read that on a bookmark once.
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