"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.”  TS Eliot

 

Every day, regardless of the goodness or evil lurking in my soul,

I see kipper skies, placid blue occasionally, but much more

Like the swirling, crashing skies of Turner, like the flaming skies the young Mozart

Saw in his mind's eye, when he was adding

Note to eloquent note to produce the magnificence of the Requiem or the Magic

Of the Flute. Following this line of existence is a privilege and a God-given piece of merry nothing

Fit to swell a tune, fill a day and turn a head or two

Regardless of, and nowhere near, that cavalier frumpery that I have given

My whole life to experience, including those times of unconsciousness,

And changed consciousness, when the unbridled brilliance of a Johnny Keats’ knife managed (God-knows-how)

To rid me of the tumour and the cells that were designed by my genes to kill me. Thank God

For science, for the brilliance of the driven-man, for all the all-unnaturally

Sceptical,  universal digressions of Mathematics.  All of those random

Quantum leaps that bridge these as yet-unknown - unknown  singularities of experience and show how

Destiny, in all its lurid manifestations, is just a will o’- the- wisp, a follower on facebook, a merry nothing.