December is poetry month here at WillSpirit. Please forgive the digression as I take a needed break from essay writing. Just scroll back to November to get to the real substance.

Look within:
At the brain under the scalp,
Beneath the cortex and its curves
To the neuronal web and its promiscuous love of talk,
Deeper:
To the jungle of membranes, receptors, and microtubules,
Deeper still:
To the strands of amino acids, sugars, nucleotides.
Go further:
To the carbon and oxygen, all the shimmering atoms.
Keep going:
To the electrons, protons, and neutrons,
To the fermions and bosons but
Don’t stop.
Keep going to see what’s next.
What’s next?
Strings? Quantized vacuum? Zero point?
Down here everything is possibility.
Nothing is solid, nothing determined.
With every fractionated picosecond myriad roads diverge,
And each of these trails gets travelled.
Reality, if we can call it that,
Headed in all directions at once.
In such a casino of creation
How does the future get chosen?
What does the choosing?
Does it matter?
Some things to think about
As we drink our coffee in the solid world.

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