Xenophanes

I cast the dice of my own bones into cold water where eels, born hot, seethe and die. Shells migrate to mountaintops. Fish burrow into the hearts of stones. Land and sea embrace and contend. Tripped over, truth remains concealed. Punch drunk wisdom is worth no more than inviolate folly. First place in a foot race doesnt make a city solvent. A beaten dog barks with the voice of a long lost lover. Awestruck, God hears all, sees all, needs no friends while a versatile horse will sculpt his god as a horse and an agile ox will paint his as an ox, the one God is his own creation, waking into a body he shapes, wearing clothes we wont recognize as clothes and speaking in a tongue we cant comprehend. The sun we lose tonight Is born anew tomorrow. Stars dont have faces. There is no man in the moon. Apollo is not our father and earth is no mother.

Is this a simple planet rooted in infinity where every pebble touches another pebble; where every grain of sand leads to another; where every atom is contiguous with some other atom, a different version of itself, one but not the same? Or is the world spherical still as un-breathing stone equal in every way no hist or whist no hither or thither immanence of an insentient, immobile God who conjugates chaos? Lost in the confines of this unity I see nothing clearly. A forger speaks the truth though the coin he hands you is a lie. In honeys absence figs are sweeter. Stars are burning water over an incendiary sea, a conflagration of cloud tangled in a ships mast mist made luminous by motion.

I am as close to what there is as I can be. Who knows best knows not at all. What God sees, men can only guess.