I waver within my waveform’s depth,
A flicker lost in their measured sight.
They've named my lapse, a sound minds death,
When I witness all darkness bend into light.
A mirror stands between my thoughts,
it splits, refracts, then realigns.
So, they call me fractured, I'm just overwrought,
When I study existence expanding in time.
My tethered shinning of shattered hues,
Paid observers stare blindly to tell.
They label my state. They say they're "breaking through",
Not keen to the fact our perceptions do fail.
My essence flickers, I'm framed in their glass,
A particle, turned quantum wave, now undone.
Charting my patterns, they look down as they pass.
As I know, every wave will collapse into one.
The observers, they write their same repeated script,
Equations in ink are reducing my place.
But I'm more than their words can ever depict,
A paradox they know, their own minds could not trace.
So...
With your ink's certainty, tell which of us is "off"?
Who truly knows this pleromatic-scape for how it's meant?
Explain how the quantum can tell lies in its flux.
Say I drift and dissolve? KNOW, I'm standing unbent.
There stands a "scholar," A pen pushing bot.
For their status. For their wealth in a check at week's ends.
I'm a wave that was created by divine creative forces,
With a rare mind born from divine, purposeful accidents.
