Antilogy

Moments of joy
and terror
are not balanced
with the precision
of a “blind watchmaker”
Where there is
no chance
of error

Nor can these be
blamed on a
reckless
“devil’s chaplain”
innocent of intent
Who just asks
that we trust him

Theory can’t
unweave
the poetry of rainbows
Yet believes it shuttles
the weft and warp
Starts pulling at and
rearranging its own
tapestry

Its sparkling strings
trick and trap
but unravel
when fitter words appear
We follow their
endless strands
around our heart
protecting our soul

Concept cannot
ascertain
why life is short
Can’t explain
how for some
their bliss is
unthreaded
too early
For others pain
knotted too long

Its dogma proclaims
love is chemical
love is practical
A function
whose time itself
is passing
merely
into electrical
simulacra

It is not self-evident
that our mind
is a “meme machine”
There is also
the reason of faith
A humbler story
of the meek and
mysterious
evolution of spirit

 

Photos from Wikipedia; Michelangelo’s Pietà by Stanislav Traykov

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