One point . . another point . .
a line from one to the other,
extending on into space and back to itself.
Zero-one, zero-one
bits of information, of words and images projected onto a screen;
word sounds, song sounds in wires and space.
Who would have thought in the days of pounding on rocks,
before imprinting on papyrus,
before pounding on drum for earth sounds, sky sounds
before blowing cedar flutes for sparrow and wind sounds
That from the mind,
one man could form a phonograph and light contained in glass;
while others inspired love, devotion, no-mind, non-violence.
Who is to say in the future the mind could project
holographs of a rose and a ginger-orchid,
and by mere thinking together the sound of peace . . ?
Copyright 2005 by Portia Choi. All rights reserved.