Do I dare disturb the universe?

Indulge in the quizzical whims of questioning?

Sit on the throne of knowledge,

partake in the feast of Newton’s apple?

To eat the forbidden fruit,

and cast myself out of the paradise of ignorance,

learn the sin of curiosity?

To let myself fall into the seductive embrace

of a lover that is not body or mind

but as real and palpable as both?

Knowledge, a cruel mistress, would have me learn the evils of life

and the cogs that spin the cosmos,

leaving the wonder of the unknown to dance off into oblivion?

For all the great science of hows and whys

I would, in the end, still confront death,

From whose born no traveler, no matter how intelligent, returns.

But why, then, should I play the miserable Hamlet,

pondering the “to be or not to be” of the universe.

All I have to do is pick the beauty and art of the unknown.

Fantasy is infinitely more pleasing,

but being fictitious in nature,

the stuffy scholar will eventually knock down your house of cards.

That which is creative shows the soul of man, his dreams and desires,

but never the blatant truth of his existence.

It is a mystery that appeals to man,

simply because it cannot be formulated, calculated, or simplified.

So, whom to chose?

The brush or the book

the fiddle or the flask

the sonnet or the seminar

Do I dare

disturb

the universe?

I’ll have to think on it...