It can’t have inputs, with no beginning;
So, what chose the song our universe sings? — PoeticUniverse
The Eternal BEING,
being whole & complete
and self-existent,
has no inputs or outputs.
But it may have self-reference,
creating the whirling turbulence
of dismayed dissonance.
rousing the question of "what if?"
That open-ended possibility
was the itching motive
for seeking an answer
to quell the vexed uncertainty.
Hence G*D said "Sing!",
and so it began
the ballad of evolution,
calculating endless possibilities,
Until it found the probability
of Love's permutations,
until the song has expressed
a feeling close to assuredness.
The Eternal is as a multiverse,
Potentially, with no information,
As in Bable’s Library of all books,
Being as useless as Nothing’s zero. — PoeticUniverse
The man-made meme of multiverse
'tempts to compute
the possibility of Love
from endlessly roiling & random static.
But G*D's song of Love
is enforméd by
the Intention to know,
which guides the world's enforming acts.
The infinite tower of Babel books
is incomprehensible until,
enformed by Intention,
'til Nil Nada now Knows facts.
Or, a Programmer sets if-then switches, — PoeticUniverse
Random 'verses will never reach Life
Unless a Selector's informed choice
sets the switch to "what-if?"
computing "what-is" from a zillion variables
Yet, the program lines are finite
because Intention defines the end
of heuristic lines of learning :
Livable, Knowable, and Lovable
Inintelligently prrogrammed, many climbs
Were the off-the-shelf reach of nature’s grimes,
A dickering Rube Goldberg ‘invention’,
Our nervous system now ruled by ancient times. — PoeticUniverse
Intelligence programmed evolution
as the mother of invention,
jerry-rigging neuron tangles :
ancient flukes now known as intention.
What is this sapiens mammal animal?
Still made from slime but of a higher call! — PoeticUniverse
Man is but a creature of flesh & blood
made of mundane matter
and icky sticky stuff,
which learns, by doing, to Live
But hearing a higher call still,
to progress from mud
to mind, soul and spirit,
able to Know and also to Love
Sorry! My poetic talent should be hidden under a bushel. But I was suddenly inspired to riff on your themes.
