Old words

I was cleaning up some old papers and found this. I must have written it, but I don’t have any idea when or why.

 

Drunk on the music

Intoxicated on notes too beautiful for a man to have written

So you must have been an angel, an avatar of exquisite futility

I try not to sing the words,

But I am drawn by the nectar of your incomprehensible insight and self-aware impotence

 

I know now there is nothing for man to do

You taught me there is nothing worth doing

There is nothing worth doing but gazing on the beauty of a moment

Whether I affect it or not

Whether I am important or impotent

No one will know and no one can say

No man has the authority to have an opinion

Or an opinion on an opinion

This is the Schrodinger’s Cat of philosophy

It all matters and doesn’t matter at once

 

We have won and we have lost

No one here gets out alive

Arise now mighty warrior. We have already been killed and now we are invincible.