Thursday, 18 April 2013


Temptation rears its ugly head and I
must raise mine in return and stutter out
a half thought, half baked, half witted reply,
more instinct than intelligent, a shout
from some more reptilian part of mind,
which must act first and doesn't really think
at all.  And yet as far as science can find out,
this is how we work, living on the brink.
For consciousness comes at the end, it seems
we are the last to know what's going on.
As if our waking thoughts occur like dreams
self assembling into sense, but sometimes wrong,
or with bits missing which come to light too late.
And thus to be a troll is my poor fate.

No comments:

Post a Comment