Monday, December 3, 2012

If a tree falls in the forest.....

Far away, men with large egos and small minds squander diminishing treasure. Meanwhile the feeble, late-fall sun shines weakly through dirty windows and winter’s chill tightens its grip. I sit in solitude, marking the passage of time by the ticking of the clock and the gathering pile of dog hairs on the well-worn floors of this dismal shack. Like the philosopher who pondered the silence or sound of a tree falling in an uninhabited forest, I face an existential dilemma. If one posts thoughts on an unread blog, I wonder, is he not simply talking to himself? Must sweep floor.

1 comment:

  1. The sound of one hand clapping . . . ssshhh . . . no, sorry, I still can't hear it . . . the incredible burden of existence, the pain of thinking too much . . . from small things big things come Mr Existential, mark my glib, disposable words.