Religion is a form of poetry. A fundamentalist is one who takes this poetry literally. An atheist is often someone who also takes this poetry literally, and is insulted. Whatever the case, great men writescriptures, but fools believe in them. What I find lacking in science, necessarily, is that it is literal, physical and true. What I am after is a poetry of science. A materialistic, nonsupernatural epic, an atheists literature. Atheism dominates in philosophy, and there are no better philosophers nowadays then the atheists. But the materialists need to get past mere Lucretianisms, and writean epic of atheism.
It is in this vein that I writeof the great Mater (=matter=matriarch=mother). I call everything that exists matter, and include it all under the Motherverse. As I say:
Forever Matter: now dancing, now flowing, now throwing her universe wide, now entroping into fragments, now introping into unity, ever creating and recreating, ever figuring and configuring, ever turning and returning: grand land, ocean, and planet bearer, author of Earth the sun, sun the system, Systems the Galaxy, and Galaxies the grand spiralling flower of infinity the Universe herself, the everything of everything, the all of existence—how high-sun our lives sing your every-name!
Gift and giver, grand All, matter, the matrix of every world; you pulled your infinite dimensions into one exact loop, crouched and ready to explode your joy into this universe our universe, this multibillion year history, a blinking of your terrible eye. Within five of our seconds: a stage! A thousand spinnings as your billion arms curled into spiral galaxies, as your trillion fingers curled into fisted solar systems.
Even now, your elliptical paths expand with your pride, as your hydrogen breath sinks into suns, as your words spring into planets. Your trillion thoughts are each an atomic loop of localized force, humming with a personality of gravity, charge, spin. Your drape of space-time, sewn with the atoms of placement—how it glitters with the spilled milky stars of a wide night sky!
And again:
Nirvana is hell is Chaos is beginning is her womb,
Heaven is metaphor is unconsciousnes is her breast,
Yin and yang are the colors of her eye,
Brahma is the blackness of her eye,
like a black hole which is really no hole but whole.
Maya is the white of her eye
Karma is her right pinky,
Law is her forefinger,
Allah is the nail-crescent of her middle finger.
Holy Spirit is her breath.
The cross is a mar in one of her teeth.
The holy Om is her humming as she weaves,
needles threading her long hair,
or her fingers through her lips.
The eightspoke wheel of history is her right earing.
Tao is the rivers of her blood.
Vishnu is eternity is her memory.
Idol is icon is incarnation is her freckles.
Behind her broad temple live her Children,
including Mother Earth, Zeus, Yahweh, Lucia, Sophia.
Logos is syllogistic definition is the triangle of her thumb.
Mythos is the hair on her belly.
Will to power is God is her upper lip.
Beauty is desire is maid Satan is love is her lower lip.
Need is creativity is force is her lungs
Poetry is the saliva of her mouth.
Art is gleam in her eye.
Being is her bones, becoming is her muscles.
Nothingness is her shadow.
Difference is her fingerprint,
Play is her laugh.
History is the blinking of her eye.
Matter is her body.
Energy is her warmth.
Science is the law of her flesh.
The stars are her pores.
Our sun is her forehead.
The moon is her neck,
The void is blackness is space is her jet hair
Evolution is her dance.
The big bang is a tap of her fingers.
Natural law is science is te is causality
Is Fate is her whim,
Is Society is her network of nerves.
Nature is life is nerves of her hands.
Man is her fingertips,
whom she kisses with the praise of a mother.
Eros is her inhale, thanatos her exhale.
Dialectic is the exchange of her hands.
Agape is her mother’s love.
Li is Chi is eternal Form is matter form is the curve of her waist.
She is beyond being beyond.
Nothing can transcend her.
Nothing can fathom her.
Nothing can equal her.
Nothing can change her.
Nothing can touch her.
She is the great Mom, Matriall,
Motherverse, AtMat,
whole and fulness.
What do you think?
Daniel
