Poem by Betty Luceigh
I am whirling within my own confusions,
wild ideas exploding around a wild analogy
of Creativity in the role of Antidote,
two unrelated words now relating in my brain,
perhaps from neocortical proximity of dendrites,
or neurons co-firing in search of an overlay,
driven by self-similarity in their own motifs.
Perhaps my sense of confusion is Creativity itself,
stirring unrecognized within the mystery
of its secret rules of self-organization
shaping an Antidote to my perplexity,
mapping the answer at its birthing site
as a novel aggregate of synaptic connections
until ready at last
to cross the threshold of emergence
as a new awareness flowing into consciousness.
I chose Creativity to customize my brain
for self-recognition of my own neural restrictions
and to counteract the limitations on an awareness
that is inherently, persistently, impelled to grow.