Q and Pi

How farther did those Hands Stretch,
Etching through blank darkness
Corridors and passages through skies and seas,
Dissected into sections – so many arcs –
Spiraling through Light and shadow.

And so Motion began.

How much did that Pen scribe
Those black alphabets on pale parchment,
And phrases cohered into meaningful
Metaphors that speak of the Truth alone.

And so Conclusion began.

I take the same compass.
I recall many dervishing similes.
These two arcs can only trace a complete shadow
Concluding itself into ceaseless repetition.

I use the same ink.
I think of brimming libraries
Packed with so many words and phrases
Fumbling, stumbling over mere translation.

Let all these pages elude the grasp of your thumb,
And see the delirium the rustle would whisper.
Let all these arcs arch over your eyes,
And see the distance the circumference would unfold.

We are mere tangents trying to edge closer,
As quickly as precisely as we can,
To our Watchful Center,
Each distance severed into several halves,
Each leap only barely touching, not grasping

Till the Center would pull each of us
Back, from smoke to blind mirrors,
To see, read and
Know what lay beyond
Each seemingly impossible distance.


21 February 2008