Spinoza’s God

A poem about pantheism

I speak of gods and goddesses heaven and hell as the gateways to tensorial fields what truth you seek, please tell

For I do indeed dwell on the ways of dice and mice did you read my words, a Russian roulette of verse? And, I, the humble servant of shadows and dusk Orion’s far away call and Osiris’s chimera As I wait in eternal slumber to shove you off the cliff of entropy.

Do we dance, with ordered madness, as we sprinkle stars across a midnight sky? Guide us back, to love and might, as we bleed, electromagnetic singularities that manifold bends, of spinors and light.

Or law and thought twisted through dimensions beyond the touch through the wayward places empty dirt roads bottles clinking in an old cellar we wish upon that final redemption, an equation to heed our last confession.

A place of god and men, sand and pulsars, a grain for every blunder, a hill for every death, we climb mount improbable, and release our final breath.

© Bradley J Nordell 2020

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