Thursday, September 17, 2015

Thinking in Poetry Again

The beautiful, absolute world of mathematics mocks my relentless imperfection...
  And the inexorable call of death mocks my mortal limitations,
reminding me, my time is short; I can do anything, but not everything.

"If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice"

To what do I set my mind, my very life?

Days slip by unrecorded, my focus on other priorities; on study, scores of 100%, cooking, cleaning myself, maintaining some basic standard of health and happiness, talking with my roommates...

The physical law that there are only 24 hours in each day, 356 days in a year, and only so many years in a lifetime... Although that number is not set, it seems to close in like a ceiling, and cause me great claustrophobia. The x variable glares down at me from an unknown height, declaring with historical empiricality an extremely low chance of anything over 100.

100 years seems so short a time when one thinks of all the things there are to learn, and improve...

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