There is a paradox in time and space
That physicists call nonlocality,
A “spooky action” at a distant place
That matches action here and instantly.
Our normal laws of physics don’t apply,
As if space-time were suddenly compressed
And something in the universe awry
Or all the cosmos spiritually possessed.
Perhaps it is the latter that we’ll find
Since we are coming now to recognize
That every seeming thing’s composed of mind,
A nothing that, like magic, reifies.
In such a way, the Muse has made these lines,
My vacant mind receiving her designs.