The physics of poetry

is best explained in a mind experiment

in the construction of this very poem.

As I write the question becomes

what is the word-next and its origins?

Now what word-next can be

is a question of probabilities;

since if I choose rhyme as my scheme

and since the words which will rhyme are finite

and not infinite

the only question then becomes

which one of these will I choose.

Now if I choose a word-next outside

rhyming

then I risk not making poetic sense

since writing a gibberish word,

or one not related to the whole,

would be judged word-next nonsense.

Now we ask who or what in the brain

is making these two decisions

is it me or is it something mysterious;

is it drawing upon the past and memory

or from an instantaneous present

or even perhaps from my future?

Or is it just random choices I make

without even understanding them?

But suppose it is something we call

consciousness which exists

in the brain-cloud of cells which

can with millions of possibilities

produce a entirely new idea

which by definition

can come to exist

like language itself

and produce something never before said;

and now is being compiled in the brain

in this very instant and brought into existence.

That is humans have with language

the ability to create sentences

which have never before existed,

spoken or written because some languages have

enough words in them to make these permutations

near infinite and hence new ideas possible therewith.

Suppose the same is true of the human mind

and human senses make possible from this

this exercise we call

the idea.

So beyond the physical aspects of the brain

there must be a non-physical aspect we call

consciousness, the spiritual, or whatever

word we choose as its name.

Now the other half of the transaction

is even more amazing:

I just made up a new idea

never expressed before

and can talk to you about it

and given enough clues

it becomes something you understand

and you yourself can write

a poem about.

This must be trans-consciousness

which is now the double miracle

no one understands.

Language then is a miracle as are
the ideas produced therefrom.