Quipucamayoc plays his strings.
Four-brane quipu, quantum dots.
Emergent, complex tapestry
Sound and color,
Atomic jig at boson’s push
Molecules from atom dance.
Knotted cosmic symmetry,
Quipu pattern mystery,
Entangled meaning, knots as quill,
If strings can information hold,
With beads on wire
Or knots on string.
Might abacus and quipu mold
Worlds of meaning?
If strings can information bear,
Might quarks and other discrete fare
Quipu were a knotted-string knowledge management system the Inca used to conveniently store data. For background see here: https://www.linkedin.com/posts/chuckmetz_reading-the-strings-and-knots-that-keep-the-activity-6887838438129762304-bfiJ
Might foam upon some quantum beach
A froth of worlds roll out?
Swift surge of brief realities
In nihilistic shout?
Should quantum tides thrust sentience forth
Upon lost temporal shores,
That consciousness may well outlast
Its quantum tidal bores…
So strange this stasis.
Gray pause more endless
Than the life or eternity at each its ends…
“What is your face like, your hands holding the pages, the child forsaken in you, who now looks through your eyes at mine?”
“Seen through the lens of sekki—and even more so, of kō—time no longer looks like an emptiness that has no meaning unless we fill it with doing. Instead, it is an independent incessant flow that’s just structured enough to appreciate its regular passing and the cadence it gives to our lives.”