tanka

tanka--
small songs I sing
to join
my voice to other voices
hidden in the grass

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Quantum Dreams


Waiting for rain at two a.m.—
not these paltry, separate drops
pinging one-by-one on the metal roof,
but the sleeve of heaven
sluicing away whole days of dust.

Longing for rain at three a.m.—
instead thoughts come,
pinging against the skull—
no clear distinction
between observer and observed
the act of looking
changes that which is.

Peek into the void
and a quantum particle pings
out of its dreamy, wavy state
into the hard reality of time and space.
(Does it manifest, perhaps,
in the eye of a goose,
or in some feathered tentacle
waving in the sea?)

So the mind that watches
alters what is real.
Can mind-states, then, move matter?
The faith, say, of a Mother Teresa—
bone-hard faith with feathers
like a flight of birds—
can it cause Way to open?

Write down these thoughts
in darkness.  Use a quantum-quill
dipped in invisible ink.
Show no-one.
Rain begins at last.       

Anatomy & Etymology 1:4, November 2011

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