I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
How frequently does it occur to you When you pose questions to other humans And they pause before expressing a view That this brief hesitation illumines
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
How safe do we really wish to become? Surely, yearning for safety from some things Seems natural, rational and wholesome;
Is your body something you have, or are? Dualism has a long history; Are you the driver of a fleshy car? Or is mind body? A real mystery
An enigmatic stranger approached me After my lecture yesterday evening; He seemed somber, but I could clearly see That he was intent upon conversing
Contemporary education seems To emphasize mere memorization; Which pulverizes the quixotic dreams Of those who cherish real comprehension
What do disasters teach us to value? Consider the culture COVID has made: Comfort and safety and normalcy new For them, many would through hot lava wade
If the world you knew and loved is no more Pulverized by plague or war or famine You can slam denial’s obstinate door But it opens, as facts you examine
As you contemplate the figure you made The making of your figure’s on parade The layers of creation cascade: Made, you are making, as your maker bade
Is reality Just what the complaints online Are truly about?
Imagining you is quite difficult Is this prosopagnosia’s onset? A face forgotten suffers an insult What did not coalesce, can we forget?
Plagues addict us to Communication at a Very safe distance
Each of these words was consciously chosen By my strange, natural stupidity By no algorithm were they frozen Amid the flow of possibility
