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Qi - a poem

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 1 Qi - hand written calligraphic 'Qi' in hanja.  A poem by Konrad Tademar
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Qi - hand written calligraphic 'Qi' in hanja.

 A poem by Konrad Tademar

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Qi

Since I disagreed with her I could not tell

 The Reimann sum of the nether hell

For the flower of the lotus tree asked me to lie

 And I had to shed a teardrop occult cry 

Let me surf on my meridian lines and harness the Chi  

 As far as the crypotnomicon eye can safely see

 There is a reality superior to this

Fire and brimstone and British bliss

 A Druidic sacrifice at the Stonehenge dawn A black cat walking across a fresh cut verte lawn

Give me twelve acupuncture needles and stick them in my hand

I will read from the Bible and see the lay of the land

Give me thirty silver pieces and I will recoil

For into the dust I will go as I come from the black soil

For the elemental function of life is pain

 The Alchemy of the Tarot is no less sane

Georg Friedrich Bernhard Riemann

(September 17, 1826 – July 20, 1866) German mathematician.

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…than the Quantum fluctuations of the meön

Crossed with a gravity bending tachyon

 Time does not stand still for any of us mere mortals

Each day we pass through countless irreversible portals

 The mind once stretched cannot recoil back 

 To think is to be a pathfinder on a game’s track  

 They will tell you that the map is the territory 

Here is the scripture, learn it by heart, there is only one story 

 The Koran, the Torah, the Analects and the Homeric cycle

I have in one hand the holy Bible and in the other a motorcycle

Zen and the Art and the Maintenance

I don’t advocate to sit on any agnostic fence 

I don’t propose any Terra Incognita unsolved equation I am not a preacher, my ministry is sensation

 Truth is beautiful, I value her for her purity 

My duty is to her more fundamental than mere vanity 

Octeract, 8 dimensional cube.

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I am fascinated by the octeract and hyperbolic space

 This is the salvation of the human race

It is the soul that weighs most heavily on my mind

 Jesus Christ stands beside his cross, and I stand behind

Look there comes Buddha, and now he has gone again

I wait for the return of the holy monsoons, I pray to the rain

 There is but one God, and Mohammad is his prophet

But I am not a follower of either Einstein or Lenin, I have met… 

…the path of truth in the free flowing of my meridian Chi 

 A long time ago when I first learned how to see

I stood upon a high rock so very near the sky 

 That I could almost touch the stars when I heard a butterfly 

It landed on my upturned palm to catch its breathI did not breathe myself, for fear of imminent death

 And when the kaleidoscopic creature took flight once more

 Then I heard the opening and the closing of the door

"Muhammad" in traditional Thuluth calligraphy,

by: Khattat Aziz Efendi (1871-1934) Ottoman Turkish calligrapher.

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Is all tha t we see or seem to be… 

 The wars we fight, the money we claim to have, the angry Tsunami

 That takes away our homes and lives, leaving behind this

 A pathetic attempt at instructions to reach bliss?

Or is all this, this world so conspired

But a veil of shadows, an illusion so very tired?

 The manifold of connected topological completeness

Is but a closed subset of a compact, an exponential map, it is less… 

…than the sum of what we all are

 A holistic statement that truth is ever dormant, and far

 The rice has steamed, the Chi is satiated and alive

 The devil has made his hoof mark on the mind of the human hive

I take a pill, the red one and go down the rabbit holeI am not a number, I am not even a good Pole

 There are Americans who wish the world to remake

But I wish to swim naked with the Lady of the Lake

Charaxes brutus natalensis (brush-footed butterfly)

Pictured in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, credit: Muhammad Mahdi Karim

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Give me Excalibur and let me converse with Merlin and Lancelot

Give me a quest worthy of the future not this tired ancient lot

 There is a cosmos out there to conquer and colonize

Instead we fight over scripture and legalisms, like excremental flies

Discard all of this, we have spent it to the finish line

 The oneness is as fatigued as is the holy trine

 The world is exhausted, the debates are all passé

I will have some fine Merlot and a cracker with duck pâté

Neither witchcraft nor science will save us now from ourselves

 We are doomed to fade away like Tolkien’s Elves 

 This is the end of our age, a new age is upon us

Love one another, get on the big blue bus

Love yourselves, and maybe the ideology will conformMaybe we can all survive the coming storm

 The door is opening once again for all mankind

I am stepping through, come with me… don’t lag behind. 

March 30, 2011

The Holy Trinity icon (1410) by Saint Andrey Rublev

, born c. 1360s - died 29 January 1430, traditional) 


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