I WANT TO BE STRETCHING
The truth is wider than the Sargasso Sea,
even Pilate tried avoiding the issue - all
that evidence pointed to nothing but a weary
question. A shrug that the ages cannot shrug
off. Things elastic make a life - truth stretches,
all those bounds and realities consume what's
vivid before us, and then artist comes around,
elongating, stretching and twisting that streetcar
around the corner : turning but still where it
started as well. Can an object exist, in two places
or states at once? The nuanced feint of quantum
physics, the Shrodinger's Cat of what I'm living.
Amidst all this hardwood framing we call our
own - most certain - Reality, I'm sure I detect
too many wormholes, places where knots are
gathered, and distorted patterns where the grain
is stressed. I'll try ignoring it all - just so as not
to upset the steady-state crowd around me. I
do like to laugh, though, I do like to laugh.
And I want to be stretching too.
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