My dear, what you teach me is:
some premise exists for luck—
a sly elasticity hid
in the apparently sheer
mathematics of Stasis
against Motion—a tuck,
you could say, in the fabric, in-
appreciable as object and ir-
relevant therefor to our cosmic
equations—or (face it) in-
equations (considering this
dire edge What's-to-Come has,
always, over What-Is)....Oh yes,
I'm a philosopher too,
and wish I could make clear
to colleagues this curve of you
occurring just when it did.
But they are too distant; won't
come close enough, I fear,
to cry What's this! What's this!
and be told Don't worry. Don't
erase anything. It's just bliss.