We Are But

We are but
A momentary merging of wavelengths into mass
Improbablistic collections of circumstance
Overlaid by incomprehension
Crushed within the lesser of many dimensions
No wonder we feel existential,
Denied of potential to understand
The majesty of the frame within which we somehow are
Unable to separate signal from noise
Left strewn in time and space
Like the discarded toys of some forgotten deity
Remnants, descendants of a alchemic experiment
That created not gold but biology
We rise and fall, without the tools to understand it all
Beyond our self-psychology, we follow
Those who claim to know
But even they are only waves in the flow.

JC 18/06/2023

Jon Collins

Jon Collins

Word weaver, tale teller, singer of songs, baker and candlestick maker. Pattern whisperer. Distiller of clarity from complexity. Professional focus on software delivery, with all that enables it.
Cotswolds, UK