Untangling - edit

[dukealien]

Untangling


When I was young my father told me how
when working through a snarl of tangled rope
to find an end, then lead it through each knot
until its other end confirms you’re done.

He didn’t know he talked philosophy,
just practical instruction for his son
and yet as guidance for a worthy life
it leaves most other systems in the shade.

But I’m not him, with but one end to hold
in sight, the house of many mansions’  light.
My life’s a tangle with its earthly ends
both fixed beyond a mind’s maneuvering.

This means in theory nothing will be tied:
there are no tangles, knots are never real.
Yet when I pull, the blob of curling snarls
drags on as one, inscrutable and tight.

My method, learned on cable, hose, and cord
is finding loops, those teardrops out of which
the tangle’s complex knots are woven hard:
choose one loop, if it’s single pull it through.

But if it joins an interlocked design -
cross, trefoil, valentine, or swastika -
trace each lobe of its pattern ‘til you find
a simple circuit acting as an end.

Pull out this master loop, the figure’s gone;
repeat this cogitation and release.
In time a wending line emerges, straight
and purely obvious, no clumps or knots.

My father’s heaven being closed to me,
my goal is worldly, plain simplicity.

original version;

When I was young my father told me how
when working through a snarl of tangled rope
to find an end, then lead it through each knot
until its other end shows all is well.

He didn’t know he talked philosophy
just practical instruction for his son
and yet as guidance for the life of man
it leaves most other systems in the shade.

But I’m not him, with but one end to hold
in sight, the house of many mansions’  light.
My life’s a tangle but its earthly ends
are fixed beyond a mind’s maneuvering.

This means according to topology
there are no tangles, knots are never real.
Yet when I pull, the blob of curling snarls
drags on as one, inscrutable and tight.

My method - which can’t be original -
is finding loops, those teardrops out of which
the tangle’s complex knots are woven hard:
choose one loop, if it’s single pull it through.

But if it joins an interlocked design -
cross, trefoil, valentine, or swastika -
trace each lobe of its pattern ‘til you find
a simple circuit acting as an end.

Pull out this master loop, the figure’s gone;
repeat this cogitation and release.
In time a wending line emerges, straight
and purely obvious, no knots or doubts.

My father’s mansions being closed to me,
my goal is knowing, found simplicity.