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Poetry: uncaught: God, creation, boredom, purposelessness, jubilation: prose poem

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uncaught

  

All creation has arisen out of one thing- boredom. The God which we are and don't know it was so bloody tired of nothing ever going on that God invented a whole cosmos simply to relieve that divine, eternal torpor. And that's why it all seems meaningless- because just as a person might sit doodling on some scrap paper at the kitchen table, while occasionally looking absently out the window to watch the day go by, anything like that, done out of boredom, has no purpose except as a jumbled mad miracle. And perhaps therefore it's now time for us to accept our initial, fatuous arbitrariness, and get on with some purposeless jubilation.

Only when we have regained the capacity to live without reason will we meet the universe at its quintessence. To not understand, to not expect it to make sense, to realize that it is all implausible, marvelous, incomprehensible, is to accept our ignorance of the miracle we have accepted. To accept ignorance is to create awe.

The pawn alone can turn into a queen.

Yea, the light that shines in man is the same that causes him darkness; a tiny candle burning so bright in the night, that he cannot perceive the immaculate stars glistening and dancing all around.

 

 

(excerpted from THE DREAM OF BEING: aphorisms, ideograms, and aislings, by Jack Haas)

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Books by Jack Haas,

Autobiography, Memoir, Spirituality, Mysticism, Comparative Religion, Poetry, Art, Photography.