©Universal Press Syndicate. Original work by Bill Watterson.Originally published on 1993-10-20. Yada.. Yada.. Yada..

you can't have a Universe without mind entering
into it, and that the mind is actually shaping the very thing
that is being perceived...

Edge of reason

Somewhere I lost my way,
damn the restless minds,
even reason isn't reasonable,
if it weighs all it finds.

Within it's own premise,
is it any less than treason,
if to fathom it's own edge,
all I have is reason?

Mired in it's boundlessness,
where is the dividing wall,
now all is true and fair,
or nothing pretty at all.

I scream and I am numb,
tell me right from wrong,
in this smoke and mirrors,
is there a real song?

Of million tunes playing,
where is the one I own,
not demeaned or decried,
b'cos it's all I've known.

I can cry or I can laugh,
I can't straddle the fence,
I can love or I can hate,
but can't keep the pretense.

Will I find myself, or,
like a stranger I must die,
having lived in reflections,
in my shadow in another eye...

Emily Dickinson

Whether they have forgotten
Or are forgetting now
Or never remembered --
Safer not to know --

Miseries of conjecture
Are a softer woe
Than a Fact of Iron
Hardened with I know --