A New Hand Poem by Kurt Philip Behm

Is mathematics a pre-school for searchers,
quantum physics grades two through four

Is what we now hold as absolute truth,
just a stairway to something much more

Are the numbers and letters so basic,
like the oils in Leonardo's paint

Is time itself an illusion,
there to conjure and proffer restraint

But does music call out a new greeting,
as it flows past the thoughts in our mind

Is the act of our own recreating,
a new portal for what's yet to find

And then will we ever relinquish,
YES or NO, the GOOD and the BAD

As the DNA of existence
—to those willing extends a new hand

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December,2019)