Before the Thought Even Strikes - Feb 24 2026

 

Before the Thought Even Strikes

Feb 24 2026

I am staring at the wall

 — looking, but not really seeing —

waiting for an idea to come.

Which they do, try or not,

popping into your head out of the blue

light rogue lightning 

or fairy dust.

Something from nothing, just like that.

Which is how the universe began;

because such things just happen

don’t ask me how.

And don't ask from where.

All I know is some neuron sparks

a synapse fires

and a tiny part of my brain lights up

before the thought even strikes me.

It’s as if instead of mine

divine inspiration has struck,

or some muse has graced me with a great idea.

Which is hard to accept

if you’re not a believer

or an ancient Greek.

After the Big Bang

the universe expanded at the speed of light.

Not into anything, of course

because there was nowhere to go.

Which is something only physicists understand

and an average man like me

is baffled by.

I suppose things just got further apart,

change became possible,

and time started up

  — running down the clock

to nothingness once more.

On the other hand, I know where thoughts go;

onto the page

into print

and into someone else’s head.

A chain reaction

that generates — amidst all the heat and strife —

at least a little light.

And like the singularity

when nothingness tipped into something 

the creative genius 

takes credit for his gift.

As if it was original.

As if there was no mystery

to abstract thought.

As if the mind

didn’t have a mind of its own

physicists can’t solve

and even philosophers futilely mull.

Which is saying a lot

since philosophers don’t have to balance equations

or make observations

of inner space.

 

I’m still looking at the wall

with the unfocused gaze

of an open mind.

Still patiently waiting 

for something come.

There were some (admittedly controversial) neurophysiological experiments that showed electrical activity arising in a relevant part of the brain before any conscious awareness of the intention. (“Benjamin Libet’s readiness potential experiment (1983) tested the timing between unconscious brain activity and conscious intention to act, sparking debates on free will.” - Wikipedia) It’s as if the brain has a mind of its own.

But even if this is a misinterpretation of the evidence or bold inference, when it comes to the idea for a poem, an image to embellish it, or the perfect word to complete a line, I often have no idea where these thoughts come from. Instead of feeling like they’re mine, it feels like they’re simply given to me: than I’m a stenographer, taking dictation. No wonder the Greeks attributed this mental alchemy to the muses, or we talk about being divinely inspired. 

This poem really did start this way. I felt juiced up to write, but absolutely nothing came to me. So I just sat, eyes and mind unfocused but receptive:  and in trying to be creative, the mystery of creativity itself became my original idea. Or if not an original idea (since it hardly is!), then the analogy of the something/from/nothing Big Bang.