I am for the others an outer world.
The others are for me an outer world.
Where are the inner worlds of ours?
How does it influence you, what difference does it make for you
the infinity of the Universe? And the fly,
creeping on your leg?
The time passes through our heads and as if with a stick
stirs the waters of knowledge – dense and sticky
at the bottom and clear at the surface. Thus
myths come to light,
visions become tangible
and what’s been lurking
in the cavities of our darkest premonitions
emerges on the sunlit shores to live with us
its different existence. But as if
we are yet not ready to accept
that faith contains what mind is to cognize. We think
we are in outer Space, in unexplored territories,
facing inexplicable phenomena,
when in fact we are doing nothing but proving the visions
we wake up every morning with,
nothing but verifying the factuality of all the figments
we’ve been growing into manhood with
under our Christmas trees for millennia now. Everything
that Mind is at pains to prove is on hand already
in our myths and the knowledge has no other grounds,
nothing beyond them.
If you want to comprehend Man – prove God.
With such a diligence the thread seller labours,
so seriously treats his trade, as if
he is about to do whatever the surgeon is going to do.
Doesn’t he look ridiculous, the thread seller,
compared to the surgeon? And the surgeon –
doesn’t he look ridiculous compared to the God’s shepherd?
And the latter – isn’t he totally ridiculous compared to God?
And God – isn’t He a ridiculous God if compared to the thread seller,
who with such a diligence labours?