Ekphrasis

Upon our adieu, will electric colors
Shoot for us to see
In snaking currents of geometry?
Will parallel lines meet, cross,
And shake their hands with
Tesseracts shaping orthogonally
Whose oblique shadows
Teased us formerly?
Will neurons fire in an orchestrated
Dance of objective reduction,
Setting off quantum ballets
In which consciousness expands
To undiscovered countries
Of indescribable sensation?
Yes, the individual melts
Into the infinite therein,
Unrecoverable by any algorithm
(Or Gödelian proof
That’s so clearly limned).

—Thomas Brodhead