we are two ripples in one pond----------------------------------------------------------- one pond two ripples we are energy commencing from separate points-------------------------------separate energies commencing from points forcibly, and inevitably moving towards each other-------------each other moving together forcibly and inevitably ------------------------------------------------------------we collide-------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------- then move apart again----------move apart, then again------------------------------- --------------- encountering other ripples------------------------------- other ripples we encounter------------------- fading into entropy---------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------fade into entropy *minor edit after discussion with humanadon : "until " became "into"
Well, I was looking for a word to describe the eventual loss of energy of a ripple in a pond, and "entropy" came to mind. upon further examination, Google's "define" function came back with this: which sort of fits, but not quite. At the same time, if you take into account the metaphor of people you could broadly (and poetically) interpret that definition into one describing the degradation of age. really, this is all afterthought. It was the word that came into my mind, and I used it because my insecure definition of it described what I wanted it to describe. C'est la vie. hopefully I'm not in trouble ;)a thermodynamic quantity representing the unavailability of a system's thermal energy for conversion into mechanical work, often interpreted as the degree of disorder or randomness in the system.
we are two ripples in one pond---------------------------------------------------------in one pond we are two ripples energy commencing from separate points-----------------------------------separate energies converging on a point forcibly, and inevitably moving towards each other-------------each other moving together forcibly and inevitably ------------------------------------------------------------we collide-------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------- then move apart again----------move apart, then again------------------------------- --------------- encountering other ripples------------------------------- other ripples we encounter------------------- fading into entropy---------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------fade into entropy a few minor changes
thanks coffeespns - I love the idea of the ripples colliding...it's sad when they move apart... water is the metaphor for the constant motion of our human encounters. I've been playing with a lot of water concepts: water down to a thin soup, cosmic sea, liquid lunch, strange brew, rain, raining cats and dogs, tip of the iceberg, condensation, melting, freezing....all of these swimming about in my mind (and fading to entropy)... cloudy rainy day.... heading out to an event...but will see what bubbles to the surface. ut nothing has come together yet
frankly, the dashes are because I am bad at figuring out formatting and needed a way to make the mirror effect! I'm going to keep working on it.
thanks! poetry is a hobby of mine to take my mind off of classical music.
Aha! Now the organization makes much more sense. Very cool. Have you seen articles like this, which detail the neurological link between music and poetry? It's something that has been obvious for a long time but only recently looked at through the lens of neurology. If you don't mind me asking, what's your involvement with classical music?
I'm a masters student studying classical Double bass. I've never seen an article like that, but I also, am far from surprised.
I'm swimming around in notions of water and this poem came to me. I mentioned it in a hubski post about a year ago, but only quoted a line or two. This poem is a reminder to take risks (if I ever want to see the silver reaches of the estuary). The Swimmer’s Moment For everyone
The swimmer’s moment at the whirlpool comes,
But many at that moment will not say
‘This is the whirlpool, then.’
By their refusal they are saved
From the black pit, and also from contesting
The deadly rapids, and emerging in
The mysterious, and more ample, further waters.
And so their bland-blank faces turn and turn
Pale and forever on the rim of suction
They will not recognize.
Of those who dare the knowledge
Many are whirled into the ominous centre
That, gaping vertical, seals up
For them an eternal boon of privacy,
So that we turn away from their defeat
With a despair, not for their deaths, but for
Ourselves, who cannot penetrate their secret
Nor even guess at the anonymous breadth
Where one or two have won:
(The silver reaches of the estuary).
- Margaret Avison (1918 - 2007)