Not quite poetry after reading Principles of Neuroscience for 4 hours

"We are all alone together. Hope and bones are what holds us up. "

Not-quite-poetry after reading "Principles of Neuroscience" for 4 hours

The books tell me that my memories and imagination are but a collection

of molecules and nuclei and white matter tracks,

that everything I hold dear are but the devious work

of dopamine and receptors and secondary signalling proteins.

I refuse to believe that neuroscience explains the grace I feel

In the prescence of a stranger's kindness,

Or the utter awe I feel watching the priest stop the Homily

to invite a homeless woman standing on the steps into the church,

or the strange combination of joy and grief

I feel when alone at night,

suddenly rediscovering a lost memory

of the loved one whom I loved and lost long ago.