Hmmm... — Arcane Sandwich

The 'thing-in-itself' can't be made nor can it break, because it can't have any parts, which makes it to be eternal; its Existence has no alternative, no opposite, for 'Nothing' cannot be, since 'it' has no it.

The 'thing-in-itself' can't be made nor can it break, because it can't have any parts, which makes it to be eternal; its Existence has no alternative, no opposite, for 'Nothing' cannot be, since 'it' has no it. — PoeticUniverse

Wow... You're on roll lately, just delivering pure wisdom! You might even convince me that divine magic exists in the same sense that arcane magic does! And I don't say such a thing often : )

You know what? After careful consideration, I have arrived at the following conclusion: you are the best Poet in this forum!

divine magic — Arcane Sandwich

Not Divine, as in a 'God' Being…

In this lost haunt, on the Orion arm
Of the Milky Way, safe from the core’s harm,
We philosophers meet in the tavern,
As sleuth-hounds, unweaving the Cosmic yarn.

Divinity does not have to be about a transcendent anthromorphic 'God'. There is the idea of divinity within as expressed by Walt Whitman. The poets often understood divinity as a source of inspiration. I am sure that William Blake saw it that way.

Divinity does not have to be about a transcendent anthromorphic 'God'. There is the idea of divinity within as expressed by Walt Whitman. The poets often understood divinity as a source of inspiration. I am sure that William Blake saw it that way. — Jack Cummins

You are the temporary arrangement of the Permanent; so, you are It for a while.

Not Divine, as in a 'God' Being… — PoeticUniverse

So... as in what, then? Is it Divine, in your opinion? The Absolute. Is it Divine?

In this lost haunt, on the Orion arm
Of the Milky Way, safe from the core’s harm,
We philosophers meet in the tavern,
As sleuth-hounds, unweaving the Cosmic yarn. — PoeticUniverse

Cool verse. But the third one is a free line, because the ending word, "tavern", is the only one that doesn't rhyme there. The same can be said of the fourth line, since it ends with "yarn". Formally, that verse has the following poetic structure:

1) A
2) A
3) B
4) C

Here, "A" represents an "ending word", and so does "B". So, the words "arm" and "harm" rhyme with each other, and they "sort of" rhyme with "yarn", but not entirely (because "m" doesn't sound like "n", but it's close). The word "tavern" doesn't rhyme with anything here.

All of that, is from a purely technical standpoint.

Divinity does not have to be about a transcendent anthromorphic 'God'. — Jack Cummins

I agree. But what I'm asking is, does Divinity exist, in any way, shape, or form?

You are the temporary arrangement of the Permanent; so, you are It for a while. — PoeticUniverse

Hmmm... but is it Divine, yes or no?

Hmmm... but is it Divine, yes or no? — Arcane Sandwich

No. Having no parts makes for the Permanent to be the ultimate lightweight; so it can't have any being, the doomed fate hat is hoped for by those looking for Divine as what's beneath, which is at the wrong level, as simplex, for the complex. Look to the future for higher beings and more complexity, not to the simpler and simpler past.

My quatrains sort of follow the Rubaiyat rhyme scheme:

The verses beat the same, in measured chime.
Lines one-two set the stage, one-two-four rhyme.
Verse three’s the pivot around which thought turns;
Line four delivers the sting, just in time.

Hmmm... but is it Divine, yes or no? — Arcane Sandwich


No. Having no parts makes for the Permanent to be the ultimate lightweight; so it can't have any being, the doomed fate hat is hoped for by those looking for Divine as what's beneath, which is at the wrong level, as simplex, for the complex. Look to the future for higher beings and more complexity, not to the simpler and simpler past. — PoeticUniverse

Wow... what wisdom you have. And I sure like that word, simplex. Your skills as muser are even greater than your skills as a Poet.

My quatrains sort of follow the Rubaiyat rhyme scheme:

The verses beat the same, in measured chime.
Lines one-two set the stage, one-two-four rhyme.
Verse three’s the pivot around which thought turns;
Line four delivers the sting, just in time. — PoeticUniverse

It's a lovely poetic structure, that's for sure. I myself prefer verses with six lines, each line with eight syllables, such as:

Aquí me pongo a cantar
Al compás de la vigüela
Que al hombre que lo desvela
Una pena estrordinaria,
Como la ave solitaria
Con el cantar se consuela — José Hernández

The poetic structure of that verse would be:
1) A
2) B
3) B
4) C
5) C
6) B

Notice that the first line is the only free line in that rhyme pattern, and that the free end-word here is "cantar", which means "sing". That's not a semantic coincidence, that's deliberate. What Hernández is saying here is that the act of singing is an act of freedom. That's the main message of that verse.

What Hernández is saying here is that the act of singing is an act of freedom. — Arcane Sandwich

Here I set myself to singing
To the rhythm of the guitar,
For when a man is kept awake
By an extraordinary sorrow,
Like a solitary bird,
He finds solace in song.

A cheerful AI song I made, extended from Omar Khayyam's Rubaiyat poem, regarding the bird,

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly—and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.



Omar had the gist of the Permanent:

Whose secret Presence through Creation’s veins
Running Quicksilver-like eludes your pains;
Taking all shapes from Máh to Máhi and
They change and perish all—but He remains;

which I would update as:

Quantum field Presence, through transient veins,
Running Quicksilver-like, fuels our gains—
Taking all the temporary shapes as
They change and perish all—but It remains.

Here I set myself to singing
To the rhythm of the guitar,
For when a man is kept awake
By an extraordinary sorrow,
Like a solitary bird,
He finds solace in song. — PoeticUniverse

That is indeed the semantic translation, but you lose the rhyming structure with that particular translation. It's a real poetic challenge. Like, take a look at this published version:

I sit here to sing my song
To the beat of my old guitar
For the man whose life is a bitter cup,
With a song may yet his heart lift up,
As the lonely bird on the leafless tree,
That sings ‘neat the gloaming star. — José Hernández

Here's the theoretical problem: did Hernádez actually say that, those English words? No, he didn't, he wrote the poem in Spanish, so who is the actual Author, here?

A cheerful AI song I made, extended from Omar Khayyam's Rubaiyat poem, regarding the bird, — PoeticUniverse

Ah, but Artificial Intelligences are awful at Poetry, that is a well-known limitation of theirs : )

I prefer the art of human beings, such as:



EDIT: And while I have nothing but patriotic, undying love for Soledad Pastorutti, her optimism is only circumstantial, sadly. For no one said that duty was supposed to be honorable by default. In other words, this is the correct message (sorry, "Sole"):

but you lose the rhyming structure — Arcane Sandwich

10 syllable lines, mostly, rhyming:

I sit to sing my song under a star
To the rhythm of my old guitar,
For the man whose life is a bitter cup,
With a song may yet his heart lift up,
As the lonely bird on the leafless tree,
That sings beneath the gloaming star so free.

I extended the Rubaiyat, with such as:

The universe’s mantle binds us worn—
Tears feeding the river on which we’re borne.
Hell’s but an ember of our senseless fears;
Heaven’s the rose-breath of opening morn.



AI poem extension:

Rose Breath

In a garden of the old oak’s shade,
Whispers of time in the twilight fade;
Stars shimmer tales of a million days,
Life’s tender notes in a glowing haze.

A cup of wisdom from a poet’s hand,
The soul finds peace in a foreign land
Petals that fall tell tales untold,
Hearts intertwine as dreams unfold.

Wherever you roam let your spirit soar,
Through peaks and valleys seeking more,
In every dawn and every night,
Infinite wonder in endless flight.

Moon’s gentle glow like a soothing balm
Serenades sweet in the evening calm;
Paths unknown call the brave to stride,
Wisdom and wonder as their guide.

Whispers in winds through ancient trees,
Echoing journeys across seven seas;
Footprints fade but memories grow,
In the heart’s garden forever aglow.

In the universe’s wrap we’re torn,
Rivers fed by tears we’ve born;
Embers reflect our deepest fears,
Morning’s breath calms and clears.

Stars whisper secrets in twilight’s glow,
Lost in the flow where the wild winds blow,
Chasing shadows through life’s maze,
Dreams linger in the golden haze.

Heaven’s rose-breath in dawn’s embrace,
Hearts beating in a timeless chase;
From the dark we find our light;
Rise together into the night.

Chains of fate we choose to break,
Every dawn a new path we’ll take;
Through the trials we’ll learn to fly,
In the chorus of the sky

Dancing light with wings that twinkle,
Softly laughing in the air,
Whisper secrets, oh so simple,
Magic dust beyond compare.

In the woods where silence lingers,
Shadows play their gentle part;
Fairies weave with nimble fingers,
Threading dreams into your heart.

Oh the fairies sing at twilight,
Spinning tales among the trees,
Mischief makers gleaming starlight,
Mystery carried on the breeze.

Tiny footprints on the clover,
Silent steps on moonlit ground,
Search for treasures under cover,
Hidden gems yet to be found.

Through the glades and past the flowers
Catch a glimpse and they are gone,
Fleeting moments, magic showers;
Morning breaks and they move on.

AI poem extension: — PoeticUniverse

I see your AI move, and I raise you the human poem "All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace":

All Watched Over By Machines Of Loving Grace

I like to think (and
the sooner the better!)
of a cybernetic meadow
where mammals and computers
live together in mutually
programming harmony
like pure water
touching clear sky.

I like to think
(right now, please!)
of a cybernetic forest
filled with pines and electronics
where deer stroll peacefully
past computers
as if they were flowers
with spinning blossoms.

I like to think
(it has to be!)
of a cybernetic ecology
where we are free of our labors
and joined back to nature,
returned to our mammal
brothers and sisters,
and all watched over
by machines of loving grace — Richard Brautigan

EDIT: As for the song, I select the following one for this post:

I raise you — Arcane Sandwich

This should keep you busy and not worrying any more about the ultimate truth…

This should keep you busy and not worrying any more about the ultimate truth… — PoeticUniverse

I already know what the ultimate truth is, about reality. It is Hegel's concept of the Absolute Spirit. And that is not factiality.

EDIT: The song that I select for this comment is the following one:

Hegel's concept of the Absolute Spirit — Arcane Sandwich

Idealism for Hegel meant that the finite world is a reflection of mind, which alone is truly real. He held that limited being (that which comes to be and passes away) presupposes infinite unlimited being, within which the finite is a dependent element. - Britannica

Hegel identifies the Permanent and the temporary, but a spirit as mind cannot be First and Fundamental because it is a system of complexity.

Or Brahman was bored and dreamed up a Soap Opera channel as life on Earth that does stupid things.

Hegel identifies the Permanent and the temporary, but a spirit as mind cannot be First and Fundamental because it is a system of complexity. — PoeticUniverse

I never said that the Hegelian Absolute Spirit was First or Fundamental, all I said is that it is Ultimate and that it is a Truth about something else: Reality itself.

Or Brahman was bored and dreamed up a Soap Opera channel as life on Earth that does stupid things. — PoeticUniverse

Brahman is the Hindu Absolute, it has some similarity's with Hegel's Absolute, but it's not exactly the same thing. Soap Opera as a concept is an Absolute, but it's different from Brahman and the Hegelian Absolute Spirit. Life is not the Absolute, and the Absolute is not alive. The Earth is not the Absolute, and the Absolute is not Earthly.

I never said that the Hegelian Absolute Spirit was First or Fundamental, all I said is that it is Ultimate and that it is a Truth about something else: Reality itself. — Arcane Sandwich

Ah, but 'Ultimate' is the same idea, but, if not, then the Spirit is of a highly evolved Alien Being and that is OK as not First and such.

Hope It can improve the Earth, but, it's not an Alive Being.

The Spirit turns out to be the quantum field as Everything connected.

"Ultimate" is the last in a temporal sense, it's the conceptual opposite of the First.

The Spirit is simply the Culture, as the synthesis of Nature and Idea. There has never been a World Culture, so Hegel's Absolute Spirit (which would be the Absolute Culture, the World Culture) exists but in a very weak sense. It is something real, but in a very weak sense. Reality itself is far stronger in that sense. Reality is greater than the Ultimate Truth about it, it surpasses it, it transcends it, because it is an Absolute of a very different kind, one that exists entirely outside the Ultimate Truth about it.

Reality is greater than the Ultimate Truth about it, it surpasses it, it transcends it, because it is an Absolute of a very different kind, one that exists entirely outside the Ultimate Truth about it. — Arcane Sandwich

The temporary complexity is way more interesting and lively than the simple Permanent underlying.

The temporary complexity is way more interesting and lively than the simple Permanent underlying. — PoeticUniverse

Hmmm...

Hmmm... — Arcane Sandwich

…

Fortunately, I was a poet myself, and so I could gain entrance to the elfin dell, as a human, having to first pass through the neophytes, resisting their temptations and spells; however, the sensual can often take a back seat to the intellectual, although the ecstasy can be similar.

I had been there once before, bringing my epic poem, 'Flora Symbolica’, unto them, and writing up the results in 'Elfin Legends’, and so they had bid me to return one day on a quest. Theirs was more of an ethereal world, whereas mine was often clunky, except when I dreamt at night, and it was time for me to wander again, to ask about and better understand the quantum guidance principle, especially learning from those closer to nature and the heavens, they being the elven mixture of spirit–angel beings and humans, and thus aware of the causal nexus.

I flew to England, to the special forest Fairy Kingdom, near Gallienne’s old haunts, and waited for the funnel to open up into the tunnel, and then I came out into their realm and walked on for a full day, seeing no one straight out yet, just sideward waverings, but noting many new colors heretofore unknown, as there were more waves and frequencies here.

Here the blesséd and haunted old forest, Whereat the base of an oak I rest, While all about lay wondrous deep coverts, And a green-turfed path that leads o’er a crest.

They all knew what I was after, as evidenced in the first encounter.

“To pass and learn of the connectedness of all things, you must kiss me, after which I’ll give you your first clue.”

The kiss vibrated deep within my being, and I felt it to my core, and then she related, “All of life’s entities embrace one another, including cells, organisms, species, and biotope”.

I was on my way again the next morning, the hours having flown by, as when Einstein had sat next to a pretty girl and had noted the much quicker passage of time, over the slower passage of his instant of touching a hot stove.

I learned more as I meandered through the labyrinth of the forest.

She said, “Hold me tight and love me, and I will unveil some of the poetic structure afterward.

Well, two days went by, and she revealed more of my quest, “Living conscious creatures are as a poem, they ever revealing further dimensions and expressing new properties at every level of organization, via strokes, letters, phonemes, words, phrases, and verse-sentences, in and of a uni-verse of rhythm, reason, rhyme, meter, metric, and melody. This relates to the quantum All."

I was hungry for the continuation of life’s quantum poem, and hoped I’d be able to move on more quickly, but her allure was testing my resolve; however, she told me something very soon after we’d rubbed our cheeks together, “Meanings in life are not just discovered or gleaned by mere observation but by understanding through participation, these informationally derived meanings combined to make sense in a non-reductive process, as in the relational reality of life happening at our semantical level of syntactical information exchange, with no breaking of any of the holistic connections, all this as the epic whole of the book of nature.”

It was so still you could hear a nut fall, And the musical strain of mystic call, In soft tones flowered upon the silence, As floating on the surface of the All.

“There is the particle and there is the wave—either one forced on us by our observations, being jointly known as the 'wavicle’, all three states of which are truly not the actual reality.”

She continued, “The actual reality is quantum field.”

After two weeks with her, I had to survive the passage through the land of skulls and roses.

Finally, I emerged, unscathed, into the Land of Spring, and found out about more about growth.

(could be continued)

(could be continued) — PoeticUniverse

Allow me to attempt to do just that, by pasting the contents of a comment that I made in another Thread, since I plan to delete them from that other Thread and to preserve them here instead. Notice the Temporal ordering, from the Past to the Present. Notice the Ages or Epochs: The Ancestral Times, when the Guarani People did not yet know the European People, notice then the Colonial Times, and notice then the Modern times:

1. "Before the earth existed, in the midst of the primordial darkness, before things were known, he created that which would be the foundation of human language, and the true First Father Ñamandu made it part of his own divinity." (Guarani Myth of creation, as recorded in the Ayvu Rapyta)

2. "They are commonly good soldiers, and of great courage and spirits inclined to war, skilled in the management of all kinds of weapons, and with a specialty in the shotgun, so much so that when they go out on their days, they support themselves with the hunting they do with it, and it is common in those people to deliver a single killing shot to the birds that fly through the air, because one cannot be a good soldier if one cannot, with a single bullet, acquire a dove, or a sparrow." (Ruy Díaz de Guzmán)

3. "No republic, comparable to that of Plato, will be able to subsist in Europe, based on its impious dogmas. It is more appropriate to ask: Does such a republic exist? Did it ever exist in the world? That is what we propose to investigate here. And we hope to be able to demonstrate that among the Guaraní Indians of America, Plato's political conception was realized, at least approximately." (José Manuel Peramás)

4."Our laws and our ordinances are close to our situation, but they are general to all of America, and it embraces all climates, all temperaments, all qualities of land; It has interior countries, and coast; open channels for communication, and steep lands that make it difficult; In one part there are mines, in others they are searched for in vain; In some provinces the former owners live and constitute the main population, in others they are barely known. In this labyrinth we need the profound geniuses to search for Ariadne's thread." (Manuel José de Lavardén)

5. "Any despot can force his slaves to sing hymns to freedom." (Mariano Moreno).

6. "The Homeland does not make the soldier for him to dishonor it with his crimes, nor does it give him weapons to commit the low act of abusing these advantages, offending the citizens with whose sacrifices it sustains itself. The troops must be all the more virtuous and honest, as they are created to preserve the order of the peoples, strengthen the power of the laws and give strength to the government to execute them and be respected by the wicked, who would be more insolent with the bad example of the military. The Homeland is not a shelter for crimes." (José de San Martín)

7. "Slaves or men subjected to absolute power do not have a homeland, because the Homeland is not linked to the native land but in the free exercise of Citizen rights." (Esteban Echeverría)

8. "if you don't take care of your countrymen you're no true patriot." (José Hernández)

9. "Everything has been written, everything has been said, everything has been made: that's what God heard before creating the world, when there was nothing yet. I have also heard that one, he may have answered from the old, split Nothingness. And then he began." (Macedonio Fernández)

10. "If the pages of this book contain some successful verse, the reader must excuse me the discourtesy of having usurped it first. Our nothingness differs little; it is a trivial and chance circumstance that you should be the reader of these exercises and I their author." (Jorge Luis Borges)

EDIT: An alternative translation to "if you don't take care of your countrymen you're no true patriot" could be the following:

"One does not have patriotism if one does not look out for one's countrymen."

The original Spanish version says: no tiene patriotismo quien no cuida al compatriota.

997
Y he de decir ansí mismo,
porque de adentro me brota,
que no tiene patriotismo
quien no cuida al compatriota. — José Hernández

The Primitive Customs of the Hummingbird

Our Father, the Absolute First
created himself from the primordial darkness.

He created the divine soles of his feet,
His small round throne.
He created them as he grew in the primordial darkness.

The reflection of his divine wisdom, his divine all-hearing
His divine palms holding his scepter and flowering branches
these Ñamandú created as he grew from the primordial darkness.

Flowers adorned his divine feathered headdress like drops of dew;
And amidst the flowers of his sacred feathered crown
Hummingbird, the primeval bird, gamboled and flew.

Even while our first Father created his own divine body,
He existed in the midst of the primordial winds.

Before he conceived his future earthly dwelling,
before he conceived his future heavens, his future earth —
Hummingbird refreshed his mouth.

It was Hummingbird who sustained Ñamandú with the fruits of paradise.

Our Father Ñamandú, the First,
before he created his future paradise
He did not see the darkness
although the sun did not yet exist.

The reflection of his own heart illuminated him;
His divine wisdom served as the sun.

Our true Father Ñamandú, the First,
dwelt amidst the primordial winds;
Where he stopped to rest
the Owl produced darkness:
for already the cradle of night existed.

Before the true Father Ñamandú, the First,
created his future paradise, before the creation of the first earth,
He existed in the midst of the primordial winds.

The primal winds in which Our Father existed return
with the arrival of the primal space-time
with the resurgence of the primitive season.
As the old season ends
with the flowering of the lapacho tree
the winds bring the new season.
The new winds come, the new space,
bringing the resurrection of space-time. — Guarani Creation Myth

Our Father, the Absolute First
created himself from the primordial darkness. — Guarani Creation Myth

A self-made man!

She continued, “There are no objects that are identical with themselves over time, and so the temporal sequence remains open. Nature is a possibility 'gestalt’, with the world forming anew each moment, from the deeper, enfolded realm, which is a unity in the sense of an indivisible 'potentiality’ which can realize itself in many possible ways, it not being a strict sum of the partial states.”

’Twas that time of morn when the exiled rise,
Thrown to time’s Earthly bondage through the skies,
Being for an hour their own Heavenly selves,
Their full glory unhidden by disguise.

“It still appears to us, though, that the world consists of parts that have continued from 'a moment ago’, and thus retain their identity in time; yet, matter really only appears secondarily, as a congealed potentiality.”

These forest fairies, dryads, nymphs, and fauns,
Ever flash their nude blossoms on the lawns.
They beckon me along, for though the air
I pass thoughts of love, verses, and songs.

“In a stable configuration of matter, such as in the inanimate, all the quantum uncertainties are effectively statistically averaged out, this thus ever being deterministic; but in the case of the statically unstable but dynamically stable configurations the 'lively’ features of the underlying quantum structure have a chance to surface to the macroscopic level.”

And so they tell more, “Physical phenomena are made of information processors that generate overlappings of correlated multi–dimensional wave fields which are propagating through time, as fields of possibility, whose intensity is a measure of the probability of an object-like realization.”

The life of her face is in her deep blue eyes,
Soft-lipped mouth, and the ears that pointed rise,
As the moon and stars reflect in a pool,
Which look as for a lifetime pours surprise.

“So, there is form before substance, relationality before a materiality that is of a secondary arising and importance, its information being primary. Impressions of realizations are left in our world by the gestalt that lives’ in the multidimensional spaces of quantum superpositional possibility.”

I dive into her eyes, her soulful gate,
And worship before her heart’s flaming grate,
Midst flowers in the gardens of her dreams,
Then whirl back up through her eyes as her mate.

“There are no point masses then, but only smudged particles, such as we know of in the space-filling representations of the distribution of electrons in the shells of atoms—called a 'cloud’."

“What remains unchanged over time are certain properties that find expression in the laws of conservation of energy, momentum, electrical charge, etc., these necessarily being closer to the basis of all.”

…

She continued — PoeticUniverse

As she always rightly, justly does. As Lzzy Hale says:

When Kings fall to their knees
They sing a woman's song
When birds scream in the trees
They sing a woman's song
The sunrise in the east
Sings a woman's song
Every heart that beats
Sings a woman's song — Lzzy Hale

@PoeticUniverse And here is the Hegelian version of that:

[Verse 1]
I am a shotgun rider
For the San Jacinto line
The desert is my brother
My skin is cracked and dry
I was riding on a folk coach
And everything was fine
Till we took a shorter road
To save some time
The bandits only fired once
They shot me in the chest
They may have wounded me but
They'll never get the best
Of better men
Cause I'll ride again

[Verse 2]
I am a river gambler
I make a living dealing cards
My clothes are smooth and honest
My heart is cold and hard
I was shuffling for some delta boys
On a boat for New Orleans
I was the greatest shark they'd ever seen
But the captain bumped a sandbar
And an ace fell from my sleeve
They threw me overboard
As I swore I didn't cheat
But I could swim
And I'll ride again

[Chorus]
We are heroes of the homeland, American remains
We live in many faces and answer many names
We will not be forgotten, we won't be left behind
Our memories live on in mortal minds
And poets pens
We'll ride again

[Verse 3]
I am a mid-west farmer
I make a living off the land
I ride a John Deere tractor
I'm a liberated man
But the rain it hasn't fallen
Since the middle of July
And if it don't come soon my crops will die
The bank man says he likes me
But there's nothing he can do
He tells me that he's coming
But the clouds are coming too
He ain't my friend
And I'll ride again

[Verse 4]
I am an American Indian
My tribe is Cherokee
My forefathers loved this land
They left it here for me
But the white man came with boats
And trains and dirty factories
And poisoned my existence with his deeds
Nature is our mother
We are sucklings at her breast
And he who tries to beat her down
Will lose her to the rest
They'll never win
I'll ride again — The Highwaymen

And here is the Hegelian version — Arcane Sandwich

I like that song, as well as 'Pancho and Lefty'. Wish there were more like those two.

Now, finally, we uncover The Poetic Universe:

At last, I met the ultimate Poet, the Elfin Queen, who told, “There is a relationship structure that arises not only from the manifold and the complicated interactions of the imagined building blocks of matter, but also one that is substantially more inherent and holistic.”

She continued, “So, then, the weaves, warps, and woofs of the quantum bits as strokes makes for the letters of the elementals, as the alphabet of the standard model, forming the words as the atoms that go on to form the molecules as the phrases, on into cells as verse-sentences, up to the stanza-paragraphs of the organisms, and unto the poem-stories of the species, via the unity of life’s conscious literature as the unified verse in which we live out our poems.”

I’m left with a feeling that’s no mere spell,
But a fact in Heaven that’s fancy in Hell,
Of elemental affinity’s flame,
Deeper than thought, much older than speech can tell.

I had discovered The Poetic Universe.

I headed back home, this taking a few months, never stepping into the same universe twice, or even once.

Funny thing, I thought, they didn’t use poems in what they told me, but, then again, they are as living poetic forms themselves.

My Poetic Report:

We are both essence and form, as poems versed,
Ever unveiling our live’s deeper thirsts,
As new riches, from strokes, letters, phonemes,
Words, phrases, and sentences—uni versed.

We have rhythm, reason, rhyme, meter, sense,
Metric, melody, and beauty’s true pense,
Revealed through life’s participation,
From the latent whence into us hence.

The weave of the quantum fields as strokes writes
The letters of the elemental bytes—
The alphabet of the standard model,
Forming the words as the atoms whose mights

Merge to form molecules, as phrases,
Onto proteins and cells, as sentences,
Up to paragraphs of organisms,
And unto the stories of the species.

In this concordance of literature,
We are the Cosmos’ book of adventure,
As a uni-verse of sentient poems,
Being both the contained and the container.

Our poem is both the thought and the presence,
An object born from the profoundest sense,
An image of diction, feeling, and rhythm;
We’re both the existence and the essence.

Informationally derived meanings
Unify in non-reductive gleanings,
In a relational reality,
Through the semantical life happenings.

Syntactical information exchange,
Without breaking of the holistic range,
Reveals the epic whole of nature’s poetics,
Within her requisite of ongoing change.

So there’s form before gloried substance,
Relationality before the chance
Of material impressions rising,
Traced in our world from the gestalt’s dance.

All lives in the multi–dimensional spaces
Of basic superpositional traces
Of Possibility, as like the whirl’s
Probable clouds of distributed paces.

What remains unchanged over time are
All’s Properties that find expression, as laws,
Of the conservation of energy,
Momentum, and electric charge—unpaused.

@PoeticUniverse