Words, found in the net of our
Unconscious mind
Floundering in a sea of feeling
Connected by guesses
No new truths are found, yet we
Seek to believe
Our truth is but a symbolic paradigm
Built on thick cultural scaffolding
Analogical models are not constructed
They are found
The metaphor ceases to exist
When two plus two equals four
Do you understand?
Antecedent, aversion, aphorism
The meaning of experience is the
Blastula, the pre-emergent cell
It grows with practiced reference
Solidified through experience
Synecdoche, how did you originate?
From whence did you evolve?
Such figures as creature for man,
As sail for ship
The root, invisible except with time.
At the stroke of semantic change
Is there a connection between thought
And truth?
The language of a symphony
The score
Each note placed carefully on the page
And all the instruments engage
The clouds of sound in harmony rise
The same with Bach as now
We hear the same dependably
As orchestrated notes predict
In such meanings still we find a truth
In such referents practiced
We have some responsibility to remember
Interpret the past
To understand now in relation
To then
For this it seems we must
Catch ourselves in the act