Or So It Dreamed

They looked away, each eye dimmed by
a simple refusal to see.

Mind separated from itself,
choosing to be blind.

Separation is impossible,
and so is blindness.

Fear made them look away,
but fear is unreal.

Dreaming of exile,
the mind split.

Amnesia spread,
a sharp focus clouded the abstract.

Nor would they hear,
each ear deaf by election.

Mind made a voice,
drowned out the eternal Voice.

Or so it dreamed.

A Thought-Song

I dislike a philosophy that tells people what to do. How am I to tell anybody anything? I know nothing but the song of pine needles scratching on the roof.

The Wall

I saw the wall. I was fully awake, eyes closed, though I had to check to be sure. It was a light charcoal gray, solid. Yet of course it wasn't. Illusion seems solid, for isn't that the point of illusion? We make our illusions, behind closed eyes, or walking from the bedroom to the kitchen. The wall, the bedroom, the kitchen, the world. Simply not there at all.

Great World

"The so-called Great World, i.e. men's bustle, has less attraction than ever, so that each day I find myself becoming more of a hermit." --Einstein.

Philosophy

"Philosophy is like a mother who gave birth to and endowed all the other sciences. Therefore one should not scorn her in her nakedness and poverty, but should hope, rather, that part of her Don Quixote ideal will live on in her children so that they do not sink into philistinism."

--Albert Einstein.