I post something about atheism then write a poem on the Transcendence to the Divine.
I throw up the scriblings of mystics but then put forward the theorems of materialists.
I co-translate the Dao de Jing yet entertain the truth of the Abrahamic LORD to only contemplate a Buddhist Sutra or spread word of a new agnostic thinker..
…The past and present wilt–I have fill’d them, emptied them.
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.
Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.)
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.
Who has done his day’s work? who will soonest be through with his supper?
Who wishes to walk with me?
Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove already too late?
Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself“.