Ratio (a poem)

I neither touch nor taste nor smell
I hear but do not understand
the parabolic arc of my moods
reapeats its sweeping curves
like an antigravity simulation
alas, I cannot walk the golden spiral
my feet can’t comprehend the higher math required

and the ancient one in my mind keeps repeating:
the fool hath said in his heart
the race goes not to the swift
a time to love and a time to kill

once, however, I curled up under a warm unseen sun,
an ambient light of peace
again someday I will, to that place, return

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