Trawling through my blog, I stumbled upon this... poem... that I thought I had written years ago. I only thought I had written it it - not because I was unsure whether it was I who had written it (it was) - but because I thought that what I had written was a poem.

It's not.


MATTER

Matter is defined
as anything with mass and volume.
Anything that amounts to something, however tiny
and insignificant, in the galaxy of the world
amid the rolling plains of time,
space, fourth dimensions and whatnot;
occupying a space in the here and the now,
in the mind and the heart. Also,
volumes of knowledge, persisting on
past the eyes and through the ears
and also the years. Books?
they are but black scrawls in random order,
trying to tell us something
forgotten long ago.


The rest of this intergalactic crap is too painful to repeat again.

There's a lot of other stuff, now that I look back at it from years later, that is quite embarrassing. Something interesting about a blog is that you can view your mental state of years ago, and know that you've changed since then.


What of fidelity and loyalty? Complete trust? Faith is not granted by tangible proof. It comes from the heart and the soul. If a person needs proof of a god's existence, then the very notion of spirituality is diminished in sensuality and we have reduced what is holy into what is logical.

Siege of Darkness - R.A. Salvatore

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