You wonder what our other selves may do
Now that our paths from theirs in Hilbert space
Diverge and we no longer can see through
The universe to them and to their place?
But if our world breaks as transfinite foam
Upon the rocks of time, then every act
Of ours is also one of theirs: we roam
A space of ghosts and make them live in fact.
And somewhere I am braver and can speak
To you: for here a stifling weight is pressed
Upon that voice and I am rendered weak.
I cannot feel my heart within my breast.
So if my torch of love shines but a ray
Remember it yet comes from far away. (Matt Freestone)
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