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Poetry is lyrical imagination,

The individual’s view

Of human nature and of reality.


It is there, where the atheist

Finds his way to God?

There I wallow in the momentary

God spirit.


What seems in itself sinful thought?

Betrayal of rationality?

I must return from the imagination

Of science, superimposed on shaky mathematics,

To other invented realities. 


To my own.

Made up of my mind.

In the creation of my own imagined beauty.

There in my own truth, at higher than a numbers level.

But there still remains above that question of really knowing,

Why a world at all?


Joe Mangiamele                                                                                                   January 15, 2014

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