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'Hopes and Dreams'...explores the limitations of perception in more than three dimensions plus time.


I

Uncoupling hopes from truth sometimes reveals reality
Which is hard to bear
According to Eliot.
The difference between hope and what is real
Is sometimes the basis for laughter
Or tears…..
In equal measure
Depending on the deficit
Between reality, and the reality of hoping.
Two sides of the same coin
The masks of theatre,
Comedy and tragedy.

Yet reality is what we face day to day
Uncoupled from hope
An atheistic vision of what is true
In which dreams expire.

Hopes, dreams and reality
Congregate in theistic minds
As a woven integrity
But is the congress true?

Atheist and theist in perpetual conflict
One offering only truth,
The other hoping that belief is true
But, to what ….?
In this world caught in three dimensions
But do not forget time that marks when
We are born and when we die
According to Ecclesiastes.

The atheism of truths of a certain kind
Confined by the question asked
And who is asking, and the way of asking,
Atheist and theist talking at each other
But not in conversation
A dialogue of deafness to other points of view
An unbridged chasm for all of human history.

The certainty of truth is one problem,
Because certainty brooks no other view
But remember the constraints of truth’s
discovery and then assertion
In three dimensions, and do not forget time.

Unwittingly Carl Sagan made the point in flatland
A place of two dimensions,
Breadth and width, but no height
Infinitesimally flat, thin
Flat and thin, so that an apple
In its plump three dimensional roundness
Made its visit, announced its presence
But left only an infinitesimally flat, thin
Impression of its visitation,
With its announcement seemingly coming from wherever,
Infinite confusion.
For flatlanders who perceived a visitation
Without explanation
A mystery within which we experience
The determinism of truth
Not qualified by the dimensions
In which it’s made
Or defined
To the confusion of those who question truth,
If truth means the assertion of certainty.

Was it for flatlanders first cause?
Just like Paley’s watchmaker of the watch
found on the heath,
Each trapped in their respective
Two dimensions and three dimensions
Limited by their dimensionality
Of what they could see or imagine.
Not yet liberated by many dimensions
That liberated Tennyson to understand
That more is achieved by dreaming without limits.

Tennyson said…
That more things are achieved by prayer
Than this world dreams of,
But what are dreams?
Visions of hope, or the darkness of damnation?
But can we imagine these visions
In many dimensions?
And find new truths which we cannot perceive
In the day to day.

II

Dreams can be suspension
Between what is real and what we hope for,
Or ……
A plunge into an abyss of horrors
The nightmare’s nightcrusher
That reflects the fears of our experience,
The fears of Fuseli’s nights
Of grotesque creatures that taunt the hopes
Of our tomorrows
By revealing the layers of yesterday’s experience,
A past that haunts the future
In the day to day.

Yet redeemed by intentions
For the good,
And honourable to the nature of humankind,
And lifekind with which we share organic ancestry.

Dreams release the mind to find another place,
Another dimension, where what happens
Can happen and more than we can suppose
According to Haldane.

Limitless possibilities that dreamtimes
Expose what we do not own
But instead we are a part of.
Land, sea and air fused with the spirit
Of peoples that inhabit distant shores
Where they are one with the place
Where they are, were and will be
For all time.
The dreamtime of Australia’s
Original peoples.

And so the plump apple
Becomes a part of the experience
Of those who live in two dimensions,
Carl’s flatlanders experience their
Dreamtime of first causes
Because the missing dimension disallows
Their understanding of what is real.

So conflate the idea to many dimensions
And you can see what I mean.
Imagine the unimaginable
That cannot be seen
Because of the constraints of three dimensions.

And do not forget time
Perhaps the portal for imagining
What cannot be experienced
In spacetime warped and curved
By the embrace of gravity.

We sail in this cosmic sea
Not seeing its possibilities
Because we are not equipped
To see through a glass darkly
Or so Corinthians says
But to half see, dimly see
Love
And the truth of black holes
Where physics is sundered
Perhaps allowing passage to other creations
To us mere visions of what we aspire to be
And understand
Just as Blake saw heaven in a wild flower.

III

To perceive the possibility of many dimensions
Is to free the mind
From superstition
From the prejudices
That blight the landscape of our thinking,
And the landscape of dreams
When we perceive self
As if disembodied
Floating on the ceiling looking down
Detachedly on what we do
And what others do in the day to day.

Doings driven by the limited framework
Of width, breadth and height.
Width and breadth and height
And do not forget the passage of time
In which our doings take place.

One is singular in mind and body
Meaning self in the day to day.
To be beside oneself is joy and anger
The Janus faced self
Somewhat like the masks of comedy and tragedy
But of emotion and not theatrical circumstance.

How many multiples of
Space and time
Are needed to be beside oneself
In a quantum universe?
Or universes where to touch would be
Annihilation of self
Tracked as energy pure, and as simple
As the dreams of our disembodied self
Looking down from the ceiling.

IV

Is hope the delusion of optimism,
Dreams its manifestation of unreality?
Who can say because analysis
Is limited within the context of our perception.
Perception influenced by prejudice and misunderstanding
Because we are limited by what
Can be understood
In three dimensions,
And do not forget time
And gravity
And the failure of its resolution with dimension
and time
Limiting understanding.



But……
If we acknowledge the limitations
Even if not understanding the quantum context
Then, given we are prepared to accept the
uncertainty
Described by Heisenberg,
Then we are mentally equipped
To understand that truth is provisional
But with verity according to experience
Accumulated through the continuity of history.

We try to resolve contradictions
Because resolution anchors us into
the certainty of
Our present experience,
And certainty is comfort, allowing us to live
Day to day.

David Applin, May 2013

Copyright David Applin 2015
A poem from the collection 'Letters to Anotherself'.... copyright David Applin
Time is filled with false promise
Pain does not erase forever
The sweet momory of a face
Interwoven lives in golden haze
Amongst memories of dead tomorrows
Lined up alongside shimmering woods barefoot with grass
Ghost like ribbons of unproven tomorrows
Floating images spent on quiet ponds
Periscope eyes yielding dippers, into dreamtimes of effortless passion
Vast vaults of time smooth with summertime sleep
This is what I see as I look deep
Long slender fingers pressing down
Keys black and white
Lifetimes spent... Sacred Sound
Notes carved from your heart sent heaven bound
You lived four score and ten
You name unwhispered in other hearts
Nor was there one who greeted you at your door
You called out, cried out long into the nights
This lifetime spent alone and lame
No fame or recognition
But poverty and hunger were your daily bread
A single cover for your bed, not even a pillow for your head
Ink a few sheets of paper, candles some wine
You spent your all, to own a mistress, of wood and bone
The candle you burnt was at both ends
Without regret your heart was given in its purest form
Bliss is what you mastered wth your art you used the pain of us apart
So full and open was your heart that your music did not dim with age
I called for you one whole month and then another
Come to me come to me softly I whispered
Come rest you've done your best
Time to come home my Darkling
It is the end... this script... this test
Lay your head upon her ivory skin
Kiss her fare thee well
I promise you shall meet again. Come rest, the best is yet to be
You rose up from four score and twenty. Your room alive with warmth and golden light
Covered in Blue Stars you took my hand, a very bright light was burning
You grinned, you saw a youth
A boy of twenty in your skin
Eccentric Enigma Jul 2014
Seen distant in the heat haze visions seen to cast
Blue hazed mountains framed in lands red dust
Cattle quietly grazing knowing not their fate
Shearers gathered campfires pushing back the night

Tales as stories flowing liquid amber in no haste
Across this wide brown land so rich and yet so vast
Such a short history since that first tall white mast
A land so young so proud but then again so new

The shears and the cockys together saw troubles through
Then came the sprawling cities so vast in chrome and glass
Eating up the shorefronts like possessed high rise colonies
Shattered now the silence the freedom and the peace

Where once there toiled the battlers so many mouths to feed
Life now ruled by foreign time clocks set in many hands
Changes now to our culture most of them far from good
Where now gone the dreamtimes lost to myth and youth

(GE2014)C Reserved
https://www.facebook.com/SilmarilliansPoetry
Prabhu Iyer Sep 2016
Shall I mourn you like the valley dyed red
in the evening fires of the late summer;
Or distant caves lost to the ravines of time
parched the dragons and dreamtimes
mourned of long the artist lover;
Or dead the lumber in the wood
felled, mourning, chipped by the pecker
now in the season who tells how much
the rain and how much the tears?
Dry the gorge cut deep by the river of longing.
Oh the aeons lost when the door
to thy chamber was locked:
decorated and adored but so so distant;
Now I bare my chest to the skies
and dare wet this lump that lies beating
only for you only for you
that torrents be eviscerated
mourning your absence
like all the mountains at dawn
all the stars in the deep
all the dimples in the rumble river
wind in the valley bend;
Death, I want not, for I can't bear
remembering how I lost you another time
and life vain now I know how I lost you
ghost have I become alive
mourning for you, oh pragya paramita!
pragya paramita!
Eccentric Enigma Jul 2014
Seen distant in the heat haze visions seen to cast
Blue hazed mountains framed in lands red dust
Cattle quietly grazing knowing not their fate
Shearers gathered campfires pushing back the night
Tales as stories flowing liquid amber in no haste
Across this wide brown land so rich and yet so vast
Such a short history since that first tall white mast
A land so young so proud but then again so new
The shears and the cockys together saw troubles through
Then came the sprawling cities so vast in chrome and glass
Eating up the shorefronts like possessed high rise colonies
Shattered now the silence the freedom and the peace
Where once there toiled the battlers so many mouths to feed
Life now ruled by foreign time clocks set in many hands
Changes now to our culture most of them far from good
Where now gone the dreamtimes lost to myth and youth
(GE2014) (C) Reserved
Commuter Poet Dec 2019
How many lifetimes
Have I searched for you?

How many dreamtimes
Have I yearned for you?

How many voyages
Have I travelled to find you?

And now
You are here

Tender green eyes
Softest skin
Warmest embrace
Heart flowing with love

Beauty beyond compare

You allow me
To become
The man I want to be

I will never let you go
For you are

My true love
24th Dec 2019

— The End —