"Nature uses number to overwhelm destruction," wrote Aristotle of fish eggs.
"Similarity arises from neglect of information," opined Lee Smolin of time,
And I found someone in that infinitely divisible moment for once to agree with.
It was a toss-up, for the next, whether there were anything else to hope
For from the series of divisions that sum forever over the bumps of unreason,
Given that the given distributions guarantee both extreme outliers and their rarity.
Don't bet on rarity is the commonsense admonition, but I never wanted
Anything other than winning a bet on the nearly impossible improbable.
Otherwise, what was the point of sitting on a donated bench in the sand
Eroding behind a sandstone ruin, listening to the remaining songbirds
Of autumn call from bush to bush above road roar in declining light?
The wind blew down from the canyons, pushing under eaves and sills,
Slightly changing the meaning of sanctuary, announcing winter coming
Into each, evening and morning. Were the first and last day.
No comments:
Post a Comment