Endless Abyss

 

 

As I keep up, continue dreaming

I half expect to be distracted,

that I would forget under an accumulation

of sleep and sentiment — thoughts —

and be heretofore gracefully unreminded

by the the everywhere recurring motif

of the abyss

 

that every point in world time

is as deep as the sky

 

and that as thus there is no limit to otherness,

we are left naked out in the open.

 

When I dream I am intimate with everything,

however alien at the extremes,

as if it was possible to forget

that I cannot fully know even myself,

 

that I did find the abyss even within myself.

 

But if I do forget,

now that I have stood up,

I would sit down not knowing why.
 

 

Limited perspective

 

 

Now if the self is a perspective

cursory along the line

it is singular,

a place of knowing

and being

in time,

but never isolated

like only all is next to nothing,

not a closed system,

always already open

and connected to everything.

Jumping with quanta

from the idea of unbeing

through all possible histories,

telling the story

of all possible variations,

spinning the yarn

in repetitive gyrations

of a tightly curled spiral,

going from A to B

making loops back in time,

coming back from multiple futures

to know all and be all

like the great god Pan,

you would have to be there

at every moment, all the time,

everywhere,

but what we instead have

is the cursory present now,

a presence and focus

that keeps us separate and in place,

lest we be carried away

by the infinite possibilities

of our abstract imagination.