complexitystudies

There was a time of blood, and war,
of thick brow and clenched jaw,
snarling faces baring sharp teeth.

It is the way of ape.
This way is trodden yet, but
when we happen upon it,
we do not dwell but hasten our pace.

There was a time of loyalty and honour,
dependable men and pompous ceremonies;
solemn faces nodding to the lord.

It is the way of man.
This way is trodden yet, but
when we happen upon it,
we do not dwell but hasten our pace.

Many ways indeed there are,
but you will seek for us in vain,
because -

- We ride the high winds of reason
where the air is thin and cold.
We cry out in wild abandon
when diving into the lush valleys of empiricism.

We dance upon the sunbeams
alighting every darkness of the world;
We love the ten thousand things
and stretch out our hand to everyone we meet.

Returning from our ventures, not one day passes
that our sacks are not filled to the rim with gems;
which we thrust freely into the arms of any passerby
who would but care to have them.

It is the way of mind.
It is not trodden; it is thought.
When once you happen upon it,
you will never want to leave.

(I would like to dedicate this poem to Ekaterina, who has been waiting so long and in vain for a story which I do not find the time to finish.)

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