Monday, January 31, 2011

Chaos Theory

Chaos Theory
By Lisa Bauman

Every day we are stepping forward
A wobbling fawn
We are venturing onto new turf
The wheels slide
Our IRAs and insurance plans cannot calculate the risks
Our feet slide
We waiver our confidence
And the chips fall
Much like the season's leaves
There is no way to tell if the leaf will be red or brown
It just falls
And the wind blows
And the weather is really in control
Who can read the weather?
GPS? The senate? Our boss?
Even God?
Can you feel it in your bones?
Can you smell it?
Do your nostrils burn?
Does your heat rise and your heart pound as you feel
the violence of the earth?
No one can predict it
It is the motion of the tides
The wind blows
All seems like a rhythm
And yet the cold wind blows
Poseidon or God smash n' his hand down
Then the earth decides
You are merely a skipping stone
And where you land
That is the fate of gravity
The beauty of the random tide
You flow as much as the sun
You sing as much as the fragrant earth
Does it have to make sense?
Does it have to matter?
Or is beauty of randomness its true purpose?

*** An poem for your enjoyment. Jan. 31, 2011