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    The Theory of Everything Rubaiyat: The Text
    The Theory of Everything Rubaiyat: The Text
    The Theory of Everything Rubaiyat: The Text
    Ebook45 pages29 minutes

    The Theory of Everything Rubaiyat: The Text

    By Austin P. Torney

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    About this ebook

    Omar Khayyam wonders and writes of the human condition,

    The sphere upon which mortals come and go,
    Has no end nor beginning that we know;
    And none there is to tell us in plain truth:
    Whence do we come and whither do we go.
    —Ahmad Saidi version

    and concludes, eventually, after coming full circle from his deconstructions of religious myth-takes,

    Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,Before we too into the Dust descend;Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lieSans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and -- sans End!
    —FitzGerald version

    which philosophy I totally agree with, although,

    The search for the ultimate truth sublime
    Of all that is leads us wise through its clime,
    Both within and without—a swelling quest;
    For then we know this place for the first time.
    —Austin P. Torney

    So, herein, we’ll meander on through life’s curious magic-shadow show, with my new quatrains, along with Omar transmogrifications.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAustin P. Torney
    Release dateApr 1, 2015
    ISBN9781310720918
    The Theory of Everything Rubaiyat: The Text
    Author

    Austin P. Torney

    Austin began writing for real around the age of forty, a respite from working as an Information Engineer in the field of Computer Science, doing programming, an art, as it turned out. He calls himself a humanist, and is one who enjoys the liberal arts, utilizing science, for it pervades every discipline. He is currently retired and lives in the mountains of Poughquag, NY, near the Appalachian Trail. He enjoys tennis, writing, fun, humor, thinking, sleeping, poetry, music, dining, travel, romance, reading, swimming, and life.

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      Book preview

      The Theory of Everything Rubaiyat - Austin P. Torney

      Introduction

      Omar Khayyam wonders and writes of the human condition,

      The sphere upon which mortals come and go,

      Has no end nor beginning that we know;

      And none there is to tell us in plain truth:

      Whence do we come and whither do we go.

      —Ahmad Saidi version

      and concludes, eventually, after coming full circle from his deconstructions of religious myth-takes,

      Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,

      Before we too into the Dust descend;

      Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie

      Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and -- sans End!

      —FitzGerald version

      which philosophy I totally agree with, although,

      The search for the ultimate truth sublime

      Of all that is leads us wise through its clime,

      Both within and without—a swelling quest;

      For then we know this place for the first time.

      —Austin P. Torney

      So, herein, we’ll meander on through life’s curious magic-shadow show, with my new quatrains, along with Omar transmogrifications.

      Has no end or beginning seems to be right on target, since, given that ‘Nothing’ can’t be productive because it can’t be in the first place. Therefore, what ‘IS’ must be ungenerated and deathless.

      Further, of Omar’s primal Now of only the present, it’s that the past ‘now’ that was just previous completely vanishes, as well as its components, in and of its construction toward and of the present Now, for the present and only Now is the output which can only be made from those inputs that were previous, and thus, as Omar promotes, the Now has great primacy, and we can stress that Now is all there is, the past not being kept anywhere, and the future not yet manufactured.

      As for where and how do we come: Locally, it’s from Earth’s elements, via conception and DNA, etc.; less locally, it’s from stardust emitted by supernova; ultimately, it’s of what ‘IS’, in its forever continuance.

      I, of the endless forms most beautiful,

      Am stunned that my glass to the brim is full,

      Life’s wine coursing through me, as ‘magical’,

      On this lovely, rolling sphere so bountiful.

      No one has plumbed the Secret Depths of Truth—

      The jewel eludes e’en the wisest sleuth;

      Thus we hear wishes turned to beliefs’ lore,

      Yet none can say It’s this, and here’s the proof.

      Since there’s no lasting abode on this sphere,

      ’Tis folly wine and loves

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