From a Notebook Lost: The Same and The Other 32
Nor have I eyes to see. Nor have I ears to hear. Nor have a mouth to speak. Nor the wherewithal. Yet with mine eyes I see. Yet with mine ears I hear. Yet with my mouth I speak. Yet the wherewithal. A patter, a dream, a scape, an endless, an infinite, a zero. But one breath, a movement, a time and space and space and time. I walk to a point and then to another point and then to another point. I gaze at the scape and notice but the sublimity of it and nothing in nothing. The void encompasses. An empty space. A flux in time, a moment passes unto now. Have I learned anything or everything? I feel I know nothing more or less then when I first began and first ended. But what (if anything) did I know then. So have I progressed from my amoebic state to a more complex form or still the same am I? An organism am I still or was I ever? I know now that I am certain I know not what I know or know or have known. My sight, hearing, and voice are far gone but not yet so I go on and I go on. My time grows short and our end or beginning is and will come. So I blaze a trail from point to point as i trudge along on my exodus which had a beginning and an end. My journey which continues even now as time goes b y. I can now see the movement of time as it swirls about me like a whirlwind. A whisper enters my ears and flows through my bloodstream entering my lungs it exits through my mouth in a great shout. Now the wherewithal is mine. Yet the wherewithal is mine.