Against Derrida (1.24.06)

Words are endlessly referring,

always pulling toward a center.

These texts may in themselves be nothing,

but, placed in the world, they ground each other.

All of us search for coherence,

guided by our taste for truth.

I could forever continue speaking,

by mass of words, give God a proof.

Our time, however, is not so endless,

we speak and think of finite things.

So let me sink into this discourse

and not consider all it brings.

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