Finite Beings, Bounded Thoughts

Finite beings, within worldly confines, 

Yet our minds ascend to limitless lines,

Whispers in the twilight, winds waltz free, 

Boundless dreams embrace our destiny.

Galaxies dance in a celestial spree, 

Time's thief ticks on, a mystery, 

Memories dance, like shadows' play, 

Chasing dawn through the end of day.

Endless series, numbers unfold, 

In the dance of thoughts, eternally bold, 

Black holes whisper secrets vast, 

Gravity bends, questions amassed.

Finite beings, beginnings clear, 

Within time’s grasp, the end draws near, 

Cycles of life, nature's embrace, 

Treading paths with finite grace.

Perception’s limits, senses confined, 

Yet curiosity sparks the boundless mind, 

Finite moments, time's embrace, 

Striving to leave an infinite trace.

Ideal forms, philosophers' dreams, 

Reality stretches to infinite extremes, 

Infinity teases a distant shore, 

Finite beings, ever explore.

In the dance of defined and limitless sway, 

Finding meaning, forging a way, 

Through realms of thought, wonder’s flight, 

Finite beings seek infinite light.

Absorbing Heights

On a high cliff where eagles dare to fly, Nestlings readied wings, to leap into the sky. Mother eagle taught, with wisdom and care, "First, see the world as it is, out there."

First came Fleetfoot, eager to be free, "Quick and nimble," with no time to see. Ignoring wind and weather, he flapped with delight, But missed the brewing storm, hidden from sight.

The skies turned gray, and the winds began to roar, Fleetfoot struggled, his wings grew sore. Down he tumbled, through dark and vast clouds, Learning too late, he moved too fast, proud.

Then came Deepthought, thoughtful and slow, "Careful and cautious," afraid to go. He weighed every option, thought of every plight, But overthinking kept him grounded through the night.

Stars began to twinkle, the day turned to dusk, Deepthought stayed, trapped in his mental husk. When morning came, the food was all gone, He missed the chance to fly, from dusk till dawn.

Next was Daydream, lost in sights and sounds, "Curious and captivated," looking all around. He marveled at the mountains, rivers, and sky, But failed to see dangers lurking nearby.

A shadow swooped, a predator on the prowl, Daydream barely escaped, with a frightened yowl. In his dreamy daze, he'd nearly met his end, Learning that distractions were no eagle's friend.

Finally came Watchful, calm and composed, "Mindful and measured," in the moment, he rose. He watched and listened, noting all he could, Absorbing the world's secrets, as any wise eagle should.

He saw the hunting spots, nests for rest, He knew where mates and predators were best. With confidence and grace, he took his first flight, Soaring through the skies, in the golden light.

In Via Flaminia’s Shadow

Along the ancient Flaminian stones,

A tradesman drags his weary bones,

With kin in tow, their steps a plea,

From Rome’s fierce grasp they strive to flee.

Though not a Christian, he's assumed,

By minds that are easily consumed.

His Jewish faith, a humble trade,

In Nero's Rome, a fearsome blade.

The whispers of the crowd take flight,

Accusing those who shun the light.

“Magician! Sorcerer! Christian’s kin,”

They fail to see the truth within.

His heart is heavy, soul grown cold,

With nowhere known to be his goal.

Perhaps to Scythia's distant plains,

Or Germany's bleak, unknown terrains.

Then in the distance, footsteps pound,

A legionnaire with face unbound.

Returning to his Roman pride,

From family left in countryside.

Their eyes do meet, moments shared,

In silence both their souls are bared.

The soldier, driven by duty's call,

Cares not for faith, nor heeds their fall.

The tradesman fears the Roman's might,

While fleeing from the crowd's cruel spite.

The soldier's gaze, a steely stare,

The family's fear, a silent prayer.

In that fleeting glance, tension unfolds,

Each with their fate, their story told.

One marches forth, to Rome returns,

One flees the fate that cruelly burns.

The legionnaire, with gaze so stern,

Sees but a man whose heart does yearn.

And in that silent, somber pause,

A brief reprieve from Nero’s laws.

But duty calls, and he moves on,

The tradesman's family quickly gone.

With doubled pace, they flee the dread,

Of Rome's fierce grasp that they have fled.

Ringmasters of Chaos

Clowns hurl ideas like diapers against the wall, hoping some will cling while others slide, leaving messy trails. Barkers of chaos present the spectacle in the main ring of the big tent. A spotlight traces each thought diaper thrown in an endless stream of notions. A circus of attention, a spawn of id and ego, a pop-media whirl of flying memes. The ideas keep coming—one brilliant, six silly, one dangerously radical, some just okay. Diaper upon diaper thunks against our attention spans, splat after splat, as we boo and cheer the spectacle. Their flow, an unending parade of last-minute insights born in sleepless nights or hectic schedules, drifts like shadows over the spotlight’s restless path. Idea diapers hurled at walls: some stick, some slide, as talking heads debate how to sort each pile. Pundits chatter and howl for the sticky ones, roaring at the fallen marks. Juggling soiled buzz-word rags like weapons in a surreal performance, clowns spin truths and half-truths, flinging them to obscure reality. Each headline, a diaper shaped to fit the day's spectacle, distracts the crowd from what lies behind the curtains. In the shadows, the diaper architects design grand narratives, crafting illusions with sleight of hand and misdirection. Their words echo through carnival barkers, promising thrills and chills, while we remain trapped in a funhouse of reflections, unable to discern the real from the distorted. A torrent of whispers floods the meme-o-sphere, drowning out reason with a cacophony of sound bites and slogans. The ringmasters revel in the confusion, for in the noise, their spindly spider fingers of control slowly tighten, unnoticed. And as the audience gazes, enraptured by the spectacle, they forget their hunger for truth, ingesting saccharine confections and salty revenges of a greatest show circus, satisfied with the dazzling simulation of entertainment value provided. The illusion persists, the parade marches on, and we, the unwitting participants, hail and jeer, blissfully unaware of the shadows playing out on the wall of the tent. What a circus; at least we have bread.

Companion Contentment

 

To my beloved son, Dumuzi,

In the twilight of my years, as I sit beneath the sacred fig tree, I write these words upon the clay to guide you in your search for a wife. May the wisdom of the gods bless these humble lines, and may they serve you well.

In our land of Ur, where the Euphrates River flows with life and the ziggurats rise to touch the heavens, many seek beauty, wealth, and talents that dazzle the eye and ear. They yearn for wives adorned with precious gems and voices that rival the lark's song. But, my dear Dumuzi, do not be swayed by such fleeting charms. The splendor of youth fades, and the allure of riches can vanish like the morning mist.

Instead, seek the one who sees your true essence, who brings forth the noble man within you. Look for the woman who encourages your strengths, who guides you with gentle wisdom, and who stands by you with unwavering loyalty. Such a partner is a treasure beyond measure, more precious than the finest lapis lazuli.

Cherish the one who brings out the best in you, my son. In her, you will find not only a companion but a source of strength and virtue. Together, you shall build a life of harmony and joy, a testament to the enduring power of true partnership. And remember, Dumuzi, you too must strive to bring out the best in her. If your heart does not desire this, you will suffer many times in many ways, for a union without mutual growth is a bond of sorrow.

May your heart be steady, and your judgment clear. With her by your side, your life will be filled with the blessings of the gods. And in nurturing each other's virtues, you shall find a love that transcends the ages, a beacon of hope and joy for all who witness it.

With all my love and hope for your future, Anu

Concentrations of Power Accelerate Disorder

Systems enclosed, where chaos grows, 

Power's pulse - a potent prose. 

Energy amassed, entropy enmassed, 

Order fades, disorder's cast.

Particles and people, paths collide, 

In thermodynamic tides. 

Centralized, the chaos swells, 

History's dust, the tale it tells.

Decentralize, diffuse the might, 

Spread the power, slow the blight. 

Equilibrium, a balanced state, 

Entropy's dance, we navigate.

Governance and physics, intertwined, 

In both, the same fate we find. 

Concentrations of power, a warning clear, 

Disorder's rise, ever near.

Country, all too country

Oh trenches deep, where death does dwell, 

Beneath the fog, in mud we fell. 

With iron will and heart of steel, 

A captain's duty to conceal.

Through biting cold and cannon's roar, 

We held the line, endured the war. 

To lead my men, my sole command, 

Against the foe, in this cursed land.

Then came a word, a Christmas truce, 

An armistice, a brief recluse. 

The guns fell silent, men did rise, 

In no man's land, with wary eyes.

They met their foes, in sacred ground, 

And buried dead, without a sound. 

With wine and cheer, they shared a thought, 

A fleeting peace, but dearly bought.

I stood aloof, observed the scene, 

To humanize, I was not keen. 

The enemy, a faceless foe, 

No truce or cheer could make it so.

The siren wailed, the truce did end, 

Back to our posts, the foe again. 

With heavy heart, resumed the fight, 

To hunt the shadows of the night.

With hands on gun, I led the charge, 

To turn the tide, our task at large. 

Yet in my mind, that vision stayed, 

Of men as men, not war's charade.

A tragic end, a chance denied, 

To see the world from other side. 

For in my heart, the battle raged, 

A human soul, forever caged.