Woe is Me
Am I merely me? Perhaps a monad? Or am I the one who stands apart—the all in all
Yet Nevermore! The raven—coyote—volcano—the eater of virgins and the wisdom supreme!—
The Nevermore and Neverless—the eternal—the East and West—the one who knows?
I am the one who bears a yearning—the beggar hungry in ragged clothes—
The one sunburnt—the one frostbit—the one deserving of the grave—
A hundred worlds and a hundred woes—I am the one too cold to count his toes.
Hum and buzz the motors turn—hum and buzz I latch at, as I think and do—
Aspiring how we model and how we learn from what went wrong or right—
Magnificence within—my model fails to comprehend—humility that drops me to my knees—
Behold the pattern on the right side of the page—launched by the sameness on the left—
Quake at the count of the atoms in their glory that in shoulder-to-shoulder launch a glow—
Shiver at the thought of the atoms in their wiggle that sum to the whole of me.
Wholly new of the model of what we think we know?
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