These are hard materials Sharp edged, inflexible To a degree That unfolds the truth, And one truth Leads to the next In linear sequence.
Each from the others, isolated Yet dependent On what has gone before, And what follows for the confirmation of truth’s verity.
Various truths are the data set of probability, Flexible to a degree Because of the uncertainty of absolute verity That only singularity allows. The statistic of one That even when wrong Its absoluteness is unquestionable Because to question is not to know What has gone before.
To know is singular in its effect, Its purpose sustained by the uncertainty of data sets From which truth derives. The metaphysics of it all Betrays the conceit of knowledge And those that claim knowledge Such that they impose their understanding On others do not know And care even less, Except when their ignorance Results in what is cared for…. All suppressed by the singularity of knowing By those who acknowledge a statistic of one. Preferring the comfort of its certainty Rather than the uncertainty That arises form the truth of data sets.
Data sets determine league tables Positions of football clubs And universities Where those learning to know Know what they are learning And rate it accordingly. Because as customers It is said that They are entitled to know Even if they are learning The data sets that allow them to understand What they are attempting to know Perhaps without conscious thought of The void of ignorance that learning attempts to fill.
Yet in their unknowing, the certainty of the learning Determines the positions of institutions in league tables In turn compiled from the data sets Of incomplete knowledge Asserted with conviction Establishing what is said to be true In ignorance of sure foundations.
I wish that I had the conviction of others To be certain of what I know Without doubt Without hesitation Untrammelled by thoughts of the uncertainty of data sets Compiled by the compilation of singularities.
Which itself compels another thought That we all derive from a single small point, Infinitesimally small but infinitely massive Exploding once or perhaps in series Like the popping of a two-stroke petrol engine That propelled motorbikes and lawn mowers In yesteryear.
And yet we are saying the same thing In different ways Unrelenting in the stream of thought And consciousness But …. Please allow the words’ meanings to breath. Where is the pause To allow the assimilation of meaning?
The punctuation of time and space The meaning of words Arises from their spacing And timing.
David Applin August 23rd 8:00am-ish 2014
Yet the certainty of data sets Give us comfort Those who await the miracle of birth Calculate the probability of certainty From statistics derived from the accumulation Of data To give the certainty of a happy outcome A statistic of one…. or at most two or three To which we all cling and which data Accumulated in sets allows to be certain… Or at least to hope to be certain That the outcome will be happy And reinforce our faith in belief Itself knowledge in the absence of evidence Truth uncurled by those hard materials Derived from numbers Each in itself a number And therefore a singularity Which hard materials cannot uncurl Only their interpretation Can reveal the truth of data sets Each consisting of the singular truths That interpretation cannot uncurl, Because to do so would give us a statistic of one Which cannot be questioned Because it stands alone Inflexible, somewhat obtuse without the context Of the other singularities that make up the data set.
Befriended of one another, the collective now represents a version of truth Because each singularity gives context to its companions So that collectively their truth is revealed As a statistic.
One as a statistic cannot be Because it lacks the context of its companions,
David Applin Queen Victoria North Sea Lying off Ostend 25th October (evening) 2014
Copyright David Applin 2015
......another poem from the collection 'Letters to Anotherself'