The inane ramblings of an unrequited writer, artist and runner
In the corners of our minds eye, we
like to think, seem to
think
that there is something that is
not us
something that
is expansive, unaccountable, pervasive
ultimate
but it is a joke
we tell ourselves
without squeaking out
the punchline…
deep and untried philosophies go
to great lengths
to convince us
cajole us
intimidate and strong-arm
us
that all of our thinking is real, is
solid someplace else;
it is not
either of those…
go convince your dog, through
questioning his
existence
that there is
no god
or talk to the trees, the dirt
describe a morning sunrise on Jupiter
what to believe;
ever…
but we live in the fantasy that what is created
is not by us
we like to think,
and that
is
the problem
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