And
now my head begins to spin.
I
reason, reason cannot win.
I
feel the zap of fractal’s koan
As
to the borderline I’m blown
And
sucked into a galaxy
Of
synchronistic ecstasy,
A
place of essence without mass,
Of
asymptotes and plasma gas
And
all-connected universes
Tuning-in
related verses
Of
an odd familiar song,
While
quarks in ether sing along.
And
deep within this stellar soup,
Essential
to the concept, “group,”
The
notion where it all begins
Is:
who are out’s and who are in’s?
I
pick the apple. I define
An
embryonic borderline.
I
pull this topic to the beach
Where
stone meets water. Doesn’t each
Small
rock and pebble get a place
When
tallying the interface?
And
then to pocks on grains of sand,
Where
lies the ocean, where the land?
With
surf and turf along the beaches,
Each
into the other reaches.
Sand
and water melt into
A
frothy fuzzy slurried stew,
With
fractal sand grains swimming wild
And
fractal drops on beaches piled.
And
algae green, a form of life
Which
further mediates the strife
Incorporates
a snatch of each.
So
much for life along the beach.
Now
intertwining earth and air
Are
ferns and bees and other fare.
And
one more question if you’ll hear it:
Are
we flesh or are we spirit?
Does
God exist and script the play
Or
are we, rather, chunks of clay?
Lovers
know as they entwine.
Life
is just a borderline.