who knows?

human knowledge — we
guard it proudly — worship it
— we immerse ourselves
tightly in selfhood until
nothing of ourselves is left

Somehow this poem evolved out of a dream about a Quaker meeting. Probably also influenced by having started reading Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time yesterday. And thirdly a programme on the BBC about the poet Ted Hughes. It’s really a poem about holiness, the sacred, the numinous, the divine — that which is beyond human knowledge. Why is our modern consciousness so split? Part of me (the modern part) believes itself 100% rational. And yet it’s exactly that part of me that yearns so desperately for a mystical encounter with the sacred essence of life, even while believing itself spiritually tone-deaf.


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