to watch a child
gaze on a fallen leaf
is this the birth of art
what myriad
of new beliefs
does such intercourse impart?
Or is this moment
one of science
in not the what but why
is all but new
philosophy
caught from
the unseen skies?
It matters not
I find myself
the question moot
becomes
for science, art, philosophy
are in the leaves
as one.
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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