"Ambiguity is always tossing to curiosity what it seeks, and it gives to idle talk the illusion of having everything decided in it."
--Martin Heidegger, Being and Time (trans. Joan Stambaugh)
Day again night again day again night,
and none hits the eye but the pure play of light;
the current that flows meets the gate of the Now,
and though we see chaos there’s order, somehow.
The double-talking shadow spinner sits in the dark
with eyes on the ground and a stone in the hand.
The magic stone’s thinking and leaving its marks
while ghosts flutter round and so scatter the sand.
He tells himself riddles and likes to be clever,
“It’s only a stone that can make the earth green,
you see that’s the matter in making a scene:
if you’d move the earth, well, you’d best have a lever.”
He chuckles and weeps and he says they’re the same
(it’s only the saying that gives it a name),
and if one would laugh while he sits in a cave,
it’s only the body, for all minds are grave.
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