The string had many ends
from its various epicenters
of line, curve and catastrophe,
each one of them meriting
careful study and consideration,
because it seemed very clear
to those who dared to look,
that a string with more than two ends
was surely more than one string,
and thus reducible, though
simultaneously such logic broke apart
upon close examination
of the thing itself.
Because also, the string was routed upon
and through itself in ways
such that it also appeared to be continuous,
and to occupy some regions of space
with bristling vector contusions
of coming and going and intersecting
of impenetrable, resplendent density,
while in other areas one could follow,
with the proper magnifiers,
the merest of lines
lackadaisically bisecting existence itself–
always unbroken, free of color
and spanning the silent chasms
that lay like unmapped territories
between thoughts, commercial breaks
and those bunched-up circus riots
of split ends, gyres, and whirly-gigs
already so described.
the problem of the string was tantalizing.
People untrained in the arts of circumspection,
when confronted by the audacity,
blatant disorder, and unconscionable depth-of-field
of the string’s presence, would often ask,
with a great deal of emotion,
how could this have happened?
And they would deploy logic such as this:
I did the same as I have done
on every other day,
but on this one day in particular
the parked car with flashing lights
forced me to step off the curb
a few feet to the right of my usual
point of departure
and a pothole that had filled with last night’s rain
exploded into my face when a municipal truck
bore across my path like a near death experience
on hardened rubber wheels.
how could this have happened!?
Well of course, the circumspect will offer,
a meteor could have struck the earth
near this location several million years ago,
creating gradations of characteristics in the earth’s crust
that when burdened by a ceaseless convoy
of modern contrivances,
have no option under the laws of this world
but to buckle, crack, yield and splinter.
Then fill with rainwater.
how could THAT have happened?
You can see how this might go on for quite some time…
and all the while, people
are crying out for peace.
Yet there are few willing to be satisfied
by the answer of the String Whisperers,
which I think merits careful reflection
and reads more or less as follows:
There is not just one string.
Nor are there many strings.
What seems to be a knot
cannot be seen to offer resistance,
while what is so obviously a delicate line
is the means by which everything
is held together.
So we are left to conclude that, yes…
the problem of the string is tantalizing,
but best to keep a safe distance,
which I acknowledge is tough to do,
when string is all we are.
* * * * * And now for a musical diversion * * * * *