Upon the Observation of Another Micro-Pedestrian

Upon the Observation of Another Micro-Pedestrian Copyright © April 10, 2016 by Douglas W. Jerving. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author, except as provided by USA copyright law. Written about 1995 (My apologies to Robert Frost and his considerable speck.) I watch from above. Like the lunar module Crossing a neo-lunic terrain The red pod peddles his way Along the brocaded blacktop Terra firma not even known To him as earth. He crosses his brother Alike – alike as a million twins Each a perfectly paired replica Of the other, and so of the rest. They all, like factory formed baubles With filigree hair legs so tiny Maneuvering the rocky landscape As just another pebble put to motion In a blacktop stone sea Of twins – they pass. Neither even knows the other’s name. Yet they pass on determined – If that is what they call it. We watch from above Assuming science senses right The innate force of life That drives these microscopic dots Along upon their journey. What force is it then that propels? Where do they go and for what? Like the ant they pursue a course That seems prepared for them Determined (as we say In science and philosophy, And meta-religio-physic Psychology and or astrology And/or any other logos nonsense That we can divine from star to star Of things, of neighbors and of far. Though no grand determiner – We do not push them through Their endless push to find the fount From which their Push begins – That philosophysico-religious First mover that sends them on their way. We are not that One. We think we see them on their way Though we are not their cause Just because we think about them. Yet still they display what we Would call Determination. Yet we fear it is the product Of anything but material evolution For fear of our damnation Or maybe retribution – For fear we must at least admit To a real determinism (Now couched in human terms) That plots their lives. And ours Must also be so plotted – Not by stars or ghosts, Nor neighbors near or far, Or wars among the heavenly hosts – But of our own, and their First Mover. We watch from above Aware of their preprogramming To do, to be, to doo-be-doo-be do… Not able by our thoughts to change them. Yet as watchers we’re aware. We walk the walk and we go Where ever it is mapped for us Pushed by forces above us. We do nothing more for our own movement Than we can do for the micropods we watch. As determined as they are, Yet we with minds to realize Internalize and institutionalize. We can make a religion out of that! We go. We move. We watch. We think. All such planned palpitations Of a race of beings Under the guiding push of the Great pusher. The Mover who first thought And then made and enabled us To go, move, watch and think. That One we would deny The existence of, because He causes to much trouble as it is, Watching us from above, Orchestrating all of this. The micro-pod with hair like legs Transgressing this terrain Acknowledges by his own being, By his own going and doing That his creator has written him Into the Books of life. It takes no thought, it only does. We question, challenge, philosophize, But rarely do we simply be and do. Yet for having thought We are the more responsible. Our denials for convenience sake Do not prevent the inconvenience Of judgment or of retribution. ------------------------ Doug Jerving is the publisher of the NewEdisonGazette.com. You may contact him at djerving@newedisongazette.com. ================================= Return to The New Edison Gazette main site.