Stuff and nonsense

The bathroom is a great place to contemplate the divide between the spiritual and the temporal – the pure and the corrupt.

A fitting setting to contemplate human attempts to articulate perfect nature while struggling with its imperfections. 

A relationship in permanent crisis – mind maturing within a decaying body, whose timeline is designed solely around procreation.

Into this catastrophe was the spirit manifest.

From within these private chambers – amid the soil and stench of the physical body, surrounded by fear, pain, corruption and blood – emerged Oedipus, Shylock, Raskolnikov and Captain Cat.

During these moments of reflection were the Taj Mahal, the cathedral at Chartres, Enola Gay and the Saturn V visualised.  

Here were heard the symphonies, concertos and quartets; was hummed “Like a Rolling Stone” and the plethora of tunes eventually sung by fresh-faced boy- and girl-bands. 

Here was the atom split, DNA identified and Penicillin isolated.

What brings those dreams, designs and visions to occupy a primaeval worm?  And why does the worm so often deny its guest?

Why?