Embryos being old.
Humans being born.
How can the new succeed what is gone?
How can the wise man ever be young once more?
How can life be alive without ever dying,
how could death die without being alive?
Oh, deep inside I knew.
From the very beginning, the cosmos was old.
(And then, it was born…)
Blind humans.
Always worried about what they see.
But is there a limit to the versions of one thing?
I see a table.
You see it from a different point of view.
Another person sees something entirely new.
A blind man sees nothing.
A philosopher asks whether the table exists.
A small ant running across sees a whole planet on which it can live.
Bacteria roaming its surface do not even care where they are upon.
A whole cosmos crying out loud.
(There is nothing to see…)
Poetic Philosophy 