If you don't know every "thing", then you know nothing about any "thing". For what is a "thing"?
Is everything a thing in itself or, is it a thing made of everything else? Is a white teacup a thing? or is the color white a thing? what then is this combination of things that is the tea cup itself?
Furthermore, is this combination of things (porcelain, white color, atom and subatomic particles etc) enough to make this thing? What about the shape of the tea cup itself- is that an ingredient as well? Does "everything" have a shape as well?
How should I know, I don't know anything. I wish you did. Although, I do know something about "everything" i.e I can not know everything.
Timeless
ReplyDeleteTo have a start through the end of
Once a beginning
A congregation of moments paused
At the fate of those inclined towards
Yet another
The hide and seek of frenzied thoughts
Simply working on
Silently persuading perception
In a misguided sequence of mere moments
Placed between the ‘now’ and
What was ‘then’
To succumb to infatuation as remedial
Of tenderness of blinded misery
Tremors of instability
Find a reason to linger between thoughts
On guard from the beastly reality of nature
Encompassed within a well
Hollow enough with its emptiness, yet,
Seemingly deep with darkness
Unknown forms of reason taint nature
much beyond ‘me’ and ‘mine’
As it does within
Just a the creator, giving birth to
Perception bound by its own limits
Habits bound by their own nature
Sucked into the fallacy twirling within
Although mindful I become mindless
Thoughtless yet thoughtful
Caught in the miraculous being,
A miracle itself seems uneventful
Consumed by the totality of;
A breathless soul searches an escape
Out of the mortality
Brought upon by mortal thoughts
Of a perception which fails
And due realization under veils
In such attachment
Time shall exist as real to explain
The course of itself
While boundless nature seizes to exist
in contradictions
Limits of my own creation, of myself
Limit me precariously
As need arises
and with it its infinite clauses
Of a conditional sense of acuity
I shall not be free
Forever consumed by thoughts
Quantified with time
Relieved only through burgeoning
As an epidemic
Enslaved
In search of joy
I am free only if I choose to be
Thoughtless, mindless,
Timeless