All points in Time are coexistent, Einstein said,
A space-time continuum where you and I
In one direction only move ahead
And only one point in Time may occupy.
And yet the whole of Time is always there.
So simultaneously as you sip your tea,
Meriwether Lewis sees a grizzly bear,
And the Titanic slowly puts to sea.
And as you add the sugar to your cup,
On the Ides of March, Caesar enters the senate,
At Lakehurst the Hindenburg is burning up,
And Bobby Thompson’s homer wins the pennant.
‘Tis said all God does is for the best...
Who made a uni- not a multi-verse.
So why did God make Time then... goes the jest.
So things don’t happen all at once, of course.
But if Einstein was right, in fact, they do!
I plant seeds and pick tomatoes when they grow.
Though as distinct events these may seem two,
Just 80 days of space/time make them so.
But the continuum, in truth, is only one.
Seeds, tomatoes, gardener share one field.
All seem to begin, grow, and be done,
Though all three no Time distinctions yield.
So as we die, we’re also being born.
Your mother holds her babe; your coffin sinks.
Your mother nurses as your children mourn;
Time has no edges, borders, margins, brinks.
All overlaps; all verges on all else.
Joy and laughter coincide with tears.
As one thing freezes, so it also melts.
Seconds persist in Time as long as years.
Moving through it, clearly we’re too dumb
To see things as they are, or comprehend
How our magnificent continuum
Has no beginning, no middle, and no end.
Might it be, when we have finished here
And done with gravity and single-pointed Being
And gone on to the mindful noosphere,
We’ll enjoy a better kind of seeing?
The continuum is more a land of Dream
Where, shut of gravity, a mind is free to roam
In fields where joyful memories still teem,
Happy thoughts of family, school, and home.
Then may I fish for crappies once again
With father in a rented, creaky skiff,
Eating egg-salad sandwiches, and then
Cruise gallantly across the lake, as if
I were Jim Hawkins seeking treasures there
Which father also read to me at home
From Treasure Island in his leather chair.
The noosphere-continuum is a poem
Writ in soulful tunes to make you glad,
Musicked verses sung, with you the singer,
Of sunlit skiffs where once perhaps you had
Egg sandwiches and crappies on a stringer.
Just so my own four boys and I
Will cast lures from the Cannon River wall
Catching bullheads under a cloudless sky
Beneath the Woolen Mill rock waterfall.
Then monthly with my sister, I’ll dine out
As we did late in life and recognized
One believed in dreams and one had doubt.
We’ll order pesto. Won’t she be surprised!
Continuums, by definition, have no end.
All points in them persist eternally.
You were appointed in this one, my friend.
You are a miracle, and you will always Be.
In His image, we too are deities;
Ideas are the dreams we feel.
These dreams we call “realities.”
Dreams gods dream... are real.