Age collapses dreams, reduces them to salient points, and bends them as a
slumping back, caved knees, as I see the years transitioning. Retrospect
and evaluation, what has been learned and assimilated become forefront.
Flung along in the exhaustion of the turbulent flow, that many before have
tried to quantify from Galileo to Navier-Stokes, similarities of symmetries
broken and then restored, from ashes spring eternal imaginings. Translations
in space and time as I have moved about the globe. I have tried to avoid the
creation of a vortex in my wake and eliminate the intermittent breakdowns, causing
uncomfortable deviations in my journey and functions, off my chart, like the Devilís
staircase leading nowhere good. Struggling to achieve invariance, an isotropic state of
harmony with the Gods, non-helical, non-chiral, my many extra parts stored masks, lives and
costumes in the closet. I am more submissive, absorbed by natural events, how things happen
conditioning me. Meekly I take lifeís insults and criticisms, un-annoyed to find myself humbled,
resigned to my share, place in this mortal fare.
© Jan G. Otterstrom F.
January 25, 2015