Ludwig W/A Sketch
You’re striding around my garden,
Arms flailing like a Dementor as you shout to a wordless sky.
And then the lengthy silences,
As you cogitate, ruminate,
And I can almost hear the gears moving.
I’m trying to believe there’s a Rhinoceros in my room.
I promise I didn’t look for it,
It’s the nth degree of certitude,
That I’m so attracted to.
I see you now, hands in pockets,
Striding around Russell’s study;
He’s slightly shell shocked,
Watching the Force of Nature, you,
And the 2 hour silences,
Followed by the explosions of breathtaking assessments,
This new son is a prodigy.
Rowing to the Norwegian cabin, perched over a fjord,
Glorious Nordic Nature streams in,
Only its emanations,
But they recleanse the fevered brain,
Mining philosophical diamonds.
I see you now,
Writing notes for Tractatus,
While over head Five Nines bombard your position,
Earth disturbed, ground shaken;
And your men, burrowing for shelter.
You’ve seen death, “Looked it in the face”,
This abstract proposition gains physicality,
And the mystery lessens.
You experience two World Wars;
And Philosophy is redundant, whilst the Soul seeks to find its transitional home,
In action for the good;
And words like `Soul` and `Good`;
Are the realities that can’t be analysed;
"What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence"
I bought Tractatus for my seven year old Kindle Paper white,
Forty Nine Pence;
Value for money?
The biggest understatement of the Century;
And Bertand Russell is spinning in His Urn.
Line by numbered line
The DNA of logic
`2.61 In order to be a picture
A fact must have something in common with the picture`;
And the `bleeding obvious` is left naked, helpless and begging the question.
There’s a photo of you,
Perhaps in your Forties;
Such an attractive, care worn and honest face;
And two of your brothers committed suicide,
And you too, for a time,
Considered that fatal decision.
A Cambridge Professor of Philosophy,
Far too official for the philosophical `Happenings` that are your lectures;
Your vitality is the draw, the passion;
And integrity of a mind seen naked in its immanent revelations.
Finally Philosophical Investigations,
Posthumous, which is appropriate;
It’s not just a revision, or a rejection,
But life has informed and clarity is found in the refocus;
Now Logic is relegated to flesh and blood interactions,
Determining the parameters;
And the mind is another organ,
I read biographies,
And watch lectures concerning the meaning of your work,
There is a heart hope that I will understand,
At a level of real comprehension,
What you are offering me;
At the moment your life is the attraction.