Maple Symmetry [click on photo for poem sequence]
Mapple Symmetry

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A Die Falls

A die falls.
The sharp sound of plastic and wood
meeting the
table's hard
surface.
Unpredictable,
each event isolated by
a lack

of relationship,
not tied to a past. The die has
no purpose, no direction,
just steps in a disconnected chain,
each moment unaware of the

next.

Though thought cannot for-
see which number will face up as
the die comes to rest,
it does see pattern,
a shape to the movement.

The dance as
a whole has order,

perhaps not
the design of a governing mind,
but predictable all the

same.

Isn't it strange?
Randomness repeated does
not look like
accident.
Rather,
it gives one a sense
of an intelligence near by.
Is that

what they had in mind
in laying the two sides of a
split marble slab, one next to the
other, the intricate weave of
the dragon veins, left the reverse of

right?

These patterns in two's
bring us somehow closer to home.
The die comes to rest
on a '3'
but we need a '2' since one of

any thing
makes no difference,

makes no place
for our butterfly, waiting so
patiently till now, to spread its

wings.




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Photo: Maple Symmetry; October, Japanese Maple (Acer palmatum) North America)
| Also: see other poems from the series, Fractal Mirrors: Procrastination; Pianoforte; Mirrors |
| go to Picture/Poems: Central Display | go to Week VII: PicturePage |

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© 1999 - 2002 Cliff Crego  All Rights Reserved  

(Created: IV.7.1999; Last update: V.7..2002)
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