I’m accused of believing in deities
like an irrational dummy, while
the material world in every direction
teases our intellects into a
puzzle-solving mania, clamoring
for the victories of knowing
and having known.
Happily, these elaborate conceptions
serve as a handy basis for making
offerings to the deities.
And they do supply the
handholds we’ll need, if we’re
determined to get a grip.
Beyond that, I don’t much bother
with ‘that is’ or ‘this isn’t’
unless I have to.
Every conclusion is a
leaf on the winds of inquiry.
Ephemeral as a raspy little fart.