By Michael Nance

 

She is an old brain

Confused by the constraints of modernity

Her twisty-turny folds overlapping the alleyway-filled time and landscapes

 

She is brilliant, glorious even

The complexities unlike any place before

Or since

 

But sometimes the brilliant are unstable

Even a supposedly-eternal candle cannot shine forever

And one cannot exist in spacetime forever without decay

Not to mention singeings

 

There is medication for these things now

Many kinds and in many forms

Will she ever get it?

 

There is much more to say

Always more

About the value of complexity

The role of responsibility

And sharing

 

But sometimes it’s prudent to know when words are too much

And never enough at the same time

 

And when to leave the place in peace

For now