Tuesday, July 16, 2019

Thirty-Million Minutes

No mind can comprehend the ordinary
Temporal riches of a bodily life,
Can grasp all its minutes, memorize the days.

A hybrid monster born of genes and lies, mind
Must do what it can to make the sense it needs
To survive, although, like its ideas themselves

It’s never quite actually, itself, alive.
It rides. Not the body, or not the body
Only. Waves of thoughts produced by the bodies

Infect each other, brains barely particles
Caught passing through measurable points in time
While the probabilistic waves pass on.

But the body lives so much the mind never,
Never notices, the waves of thoughts never
Note, the memory never captures, never.

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