"We pass the word around; we ponder how the case is put by different people, we read the poetry; we meditate over the literature; we play the music; we change our minds; we reach an understanding. Society evolves this way, not by shouting each other down, but by the unique capacity of unique, individual human beings to comprehend each other." - Lewis Thomas

Sunday, October 3, 2010


Here within the depth of the mind
Caverns extend endlessly, lit by torches
Casting shadows along the pathway, welcoming.

Voices whisper like a reckoning
Speaking each word carefully like the poet Virgil to Dante
As a stairwell emerges echoed in mists;

The silent hymns of the mind's breath.
With torch lights remembering candle flames
The stairwell spirals downward with a cold chill.

A room, still as a statue, full as the heart
At the edges of the stairs laying like a fateful servant
Surrounded in liquid crystal, an orchid upon a pedestal.

Shimmering in the darkness, growing amongst a void
Cold and desolate, she blooms unknown
A flower perfect beyond all else, the lover's muse.

For the final fleeting moment that face appears
As the Orchid blooms. Reflections of muse's memories
Locked away in that desolate place.

Forever more, this pen will scratch at the page
Ever seeking the silent songs of that Orchid
Resting in solitude like a Jewel encased in fire.

"...and life is nothing more than the conquest of random events over the unknown." - Authors note 81