Jim Morrison’s grave stone –
there it was
standing upright,
in a Paris cemetery,
surrounded by
the Argentine Rugby team.
I listened to The Doors’
Touch Me
over and over.
This was in my
adult years
long after I had
lived in Argentina for
for years.
I asked, was that
a random moment?
If not, then what
is a random moment?
Wiki says, “Randomness is
the lack of pattern
or predictability in events.”
My religion does not believe
in random events.
It calls them
miracles
and mysteries
instead.
For a time I tried
to understand
randomness
from science and math.
Did you know
most scientists
and mathematicians
do not believe
randomness exists?
Nevertheless,
I continue searching
for randomness.
I’ve turned to literature
to see if it can be found there.
Mostly,
writers could care less
about randomness.
They dwell on the pain
of life’s mundaneness.
So, It’s up to me.
Where do I stand?
In randomness,
I believe.
Events occur which
can’t be predicted,
those rare
moments
when randomness
meets up with genius,
and the world moves forward.
Human affairs both
small and large turn
when a random moment
intersects with inspiration.
Without a random moment,
inspiration would not work –
predictability would swallow
it up.