thousands of sunsets
— day after day
— season through season
— year after year;
horizon-wide slices
sequenced in columns
— sine-wave of suns:
gold & red & orange
in open clear sky,
or cradled in clouds
— limitless time series:
time past to time future
through the unending now
— where (&, more, when)
does this serpent path lead?
from the here & the now, see
the great all, all in motion:
worlds spin on axes,
precess & orbit
all around their suns;
stars speed-drift, askew,
through vast pinwheel disks
in eons-long swirl.
galaxies gather, make
clusters & super-clusters,
form great voids & walls
— glacier slow turmoil,
big bang to big freeze.
but viewed from outside
(wherever that is) this
universe/object,
4-dimensional whole,
holds no motion, just
patterns, traced inside ice
— outside of time (like
the still life of sunsets)
— complex curves,
intricate lines —
fine-sculpted forms
frozen in glass.
where is there room,
in this motionless mass,
for mind or free will?
for progression of thought?
for sequence of choice?
fine-sculpted forms
frozen in glass.
where is there room,
in this motionless mass,
for mind or free will?
for progression of thought?
for sequence of choice?