An interrogative:
If all is relative,
And truth (like time and space)
Has no fixed thought or place
Where God has said, “Be still,”
Why can’t I simply will
That truth be as it seems
In all my ego-schemes?
So, spinning on my heel,
I’ll deem this cosmic wheel-
The whole, not some few stars,
But galaxies as far as
Light itself extends
Or human thought ascends-
May be just what I see,
One vast complexity
All orbiting round me!

Articles by N. E. Dunkle

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