Science, Philosophy and Time Poem

I love science and philosophy stoicism and biology so welcome to my inner physiology, where I sit wait debate and contemplate my future.

That’s if the future’s even real, because I’m starting to think that time’s an eternal wheel. The spokes are your connection, to people and places, treds keep the right direction, always on path until you get a flat tire life’s “Grapes of Wrath.”

A type of Tour de France marathon, with that liar Lance Armstrong, who didn’t have enough “balls” to admit he was wrong. See humanities biggest flaw, is our inability to admit our flaws. Masking our insecurities with a biased immaturity.

Well, it’s time to grow up, and it starts with you and me. Because I’ve had my fair share of vices, Pornography. My sexual world became fictional fantasy, akin to the lies that girls see through Disney.

But its made me a better man because I realize what I stand for. Foretold through the patterns of space and time Einstein special relativity comes to mind. Because it’s really all relative, and there are no absolute truths. But my last sentence may just be the proof, that there really are.

See this paradox leaves a deep scar. And no laser surgery can undo this damage, because it’s something that Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation (L.A.S.E.R.), can never manage.

In actuality, everything in nature is a wave-particle duality. Leading to logical causality like night need day, light need dark, quark and anti-quark spark of life. Quantum fluctuations revealing answers through observation with only 1 caveat, you may be dead or alive Schrodinger’s Cat.

The calcium in our bones, iron in our blood, oxygen in our lungs all came from the guts of a dead star, far across the galaxy. We are ashes to ashes stardust to stardust and it starts with us to see past the event horizon. Where not even light can arise from. With gravity so strong they call it a singularity, I’m talkin’ deep space away from Earth’s barbarity.

See I write poetry for the same reason a homeless man asks for spare change, I need it to survive. I do it to keep alive the thoughts I harbor inside, because without this pen they glide, away, and they say that time heals all wounds, but how can that be when it’s also slowly killing you?

So what are we to do, to make it worth our time on this earth? Because I’ve found there’s no shortage of -isms and -ologies that one can subscribe to. Or rules that some scribe knew thousands of years ago that we still follow in a pew.

Whether Muslim, Christian or Jew, what’s really true, is that no one has a clue to the purpose of life for me and you. Was man created in the image of God, or God in the image of man? The old chicken and egg, and now I’m hungry for some answers to questions that keep me up at night.

But I’m learning to love the mystery with every rhyme that I write. And my only goal is to incite you to think deeply, speak softly, and arrive at your own personal insight. So will you join me? Let’s try to be brave and climb out of “Plato’s Cave.”