Poetry – Nothing Makes Sense

Nothing Makes Sense

A trillion stars glistening like white salt crystals on black velvet;

The Milky Way a band of circling smoke;

A mind to witness the majestic impossibility;

A mind to ponder all possibility;

A sea of questions to founder in;

Answers like driftwood to cling to;

Facts that are a mirage in a desert of emptiness;

Delight in the wonder and the awe.

Sitting on a warm rock with feet dangling in space,

Staring out to sea as the very last hues of the day’s sun fade on the horizon,

What does it matter?

Suspended here between the breath-taking imponderables of macrocosm and microcosm,

Both of whose mysteries lie beyond our comprehension,

Incompatible in their weirdness,

We bask in the glory of our reality

And breathe its beauty.

Yet still we dare to fathom the reality of quarks, quasars and black holes –

As if any of it mattered.

We dare to stretch back through time to the beginning –

Enshrouded in mystery, like Merlin in his mist, we seek to understand.

With senses limited, experience restricted and minds constrained,

Nothing marries, nothing cleaves and nothing makes sense.

All that’s left is to enjoy the moment of being

And cherish our existence

And cling to the warmth of the rock for as long as we are able.

Opher – 9.8.2017

Sometimes we are overwhelmed by the wonder and majesty of nature, the incredible phenomenon of consciousness and the infinity of the universe.

How did it all arise?

How did we come to be here?

How does this universe work?

The more we come to understand of neuronal nets and brain images, of quantum physics and the birth of galaxies, the more amazing it becomes.

It is fascinating to delve, enquire and discover but ultimately it doesn’t matter. All that really matters is that we are here and that on a warm night with the sky of stars as a backdrop, a companion to share it with and a glass of wine, life is pretty good.

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