Idea

Idea        3/24/2015    

Intelligence is more than memory

Or pattern recognition

And that will never constitute consciousness

Nothing but processing

Over and over again. 

How do you measure love?

And how can you quantify

The drive to survive

And create?

Efficiency, morals

Distance, and speed

A few of the many things

We consider,

And judge every day. 

The soul is more

Than what we could guess

And the spirit burns bright enough

For the whole world to see.  

I make no apologies

And I am not ashamed

Not here, not now

And not ever. 

The doomed will rant

And gnash their teeth

But a fool can never change the truth

As obvious as can be.  

The truth matters more

And it is bigger than a tirade

The only way to a peace

And greater than any,

Momentary pain. 

What is this, that we worry?

Nothing but a state of mind

Because the loss of truth

Is far worse than anything

They could ever steal.

You can see it now

The utter foolishness of men

Cavorting like scavengers

And snapping at each other

Over nothing at all.  

No, let us have the truth

Even when it hurts

Because that is the only thing

That matters

And the only thing

That lasts. 

In the end

There is love

Beautiful love

Like sprinkles of cool water

On a hot summer day. 

Unexplainable,

Immeasurable,

Thrilling, and mystifying

The essential spark

From which, we are made.   

No matter how much we give

There is always more to share

And no matter how much we lose

There will always be enough.