What is the science of certainty?
What law can account for the perfect
actuality of one moment, and the permanent
irresolution of the next?
How can resolution lead to dissolution,
to us without solution, and back?
How can this absolution seem like prostitution -
for lack of contribution - again?
Are we precipitates?
Or in suspension?
Is it your elocution?
Or my persecution?
Does this seem like prosecution?
(because I can't really
tell whose mass is negligible
here)
Am I the cat?
Are you the poison?
And who is the goddamned root mean square?
Could it be time to differentiate?:
(Or should we integrate?)
Uncertainly certain
and
Certainly uncertain.
Comments
-
Your poem has interfered with the experiment, Herr Schrodinger.
Nature plays no games!
You are the one who tosses the dice.
Adding your comment:
