Every truth there is to plumb,
every fraction, every sum,
each regret we cower from
resides inside the cranium.
All the aches that radiate,
urges to investigate,
manic love, unyielding hate
will bubble from a yearning pate.
Stirring tales to fill a tome,
the dying need to freely roam,
that soothing fire known as home,
are kindled in the sacred dome.
Anomalies of wry chagrin,
discoveries of how we spin,
the fortitude to cry or grin—
Eternity reflects within.
Are You Reading Me?
3 comments:
Hmmm I wonder... I'm coming to the view that our brain is actually a sensory organ, like the eye, that "sees" into an externally based memory (collective consciousness?). I once had a guy tell me word for word whatever I thought six times in a row- and I was testing him by thinking weird stuff. I had never met him before. It seems odd that people used to believe that memory resided inthe heart. I'm also interested in the way thatwe can choose to recall information, and whether that information in any way resembles that which once occurred. One way or another it is all a marvel. I'll drink with you to memories, dreams and reflections :-)
I have to agree with you Glenn and I revised one word in the last line to hopefully 'head' in that direction. Thanks for your thoughtful response.
Bob
Hey i like it ! :-)
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