.
I'd like to suggest a poem,
about the speeds of light
and sound
and
how we live in movements
of the past.
The sun we see is not there,
it has moved on.
Voices we hear are after the
fact, and after the act.
The words having traveled
thru
the bouncing air
entering into bouncing brains.
And how information is
forever.
And how everything except
the unmeasurable is
measurable
and is not there.
The light that bounced off the
patterned face of your young
grandmother
is traveling thru space with
that same pattern, out there
somewhere,
traveling in completions of eternities.
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