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.


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