What is the sound of an atom splitting?
Of neutrons alighting dislocations
like an idea that catches you off guard.
It is the sound of your experience
fissioning perception and conception
unleashing hallelujahs, eurekas.
It has no center and no position.
You can’t see into it, not even into
your own moments of flashing satori.
We know it by the force of words alone,
words that ionize imagination,
whose meanings alter irreparably.
Out of what split, do you wonder, do
words appear spinning forwards and backwards,
handed off from one mind to another?
You know the reason for all that trouble
with fission, is that the force that binds
the atom together is stronger than
any other force we know of, stronger
than the crack of lightning, than the rolling
of planets along the slope of their sun.
Then words, if that is all we have, words
must be enough to know ourselves by.
Stochastic words decaying into noise.
Their meaning is the meaning of the force
itself, the calculus of consciousness
that binds and spills open at the egress.