Among many other theories of our universe the idea we are living in a simulation has become prevalent. Like most other religions there is no solid proof of this theory. While many religions say that…
Time dilates in my mind
shrinking and stretching,
pulled like taffy spun ’round,
layer over sticky layer,
bending like heavy space.
Warping lines twist
tying knots that won’t come undone,
but the cat’s cradle carries on
connecting the spiders’ webs
with rain drops dripping
into puddles and pools,
where we glimpse our reflection
only barely in the ripples.
We ride them all the way
to the shores of future memories,
where things are undone but being done,
unsaid but being said.
So many stretched out lives
lived in a blink, as dreams in dreams,
or awake layered screens on screens,
sounds on sounds,
and the voices.
And when there is no mind left to speak,
time will be all alone with space,
and maybe that will remind it of
its moment with a mind like mine.
Thank you for reading.
If you’re interested in reading any more of my work, I have categorized my writing here into “lists”:
The categories are:
You may find one poem on more than one list (i.e. a poem invoking imagery from the COSMOS & NATURE might be describing MIND & MENTAL ILLNESS or be presented in WHIMSY & RHYME, etc).
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