Thursday, April 2, 2015


            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.