True that all my pretty stones and flowers
are really soulful forces hurled or still?
That each is charged with crystal optic power –
a silver glass, reflecting world and will?
The soul-force leaps but does not see its step
nor know its mate in universal dance.
How can a mirror know or see itself
Its single touchstone is an alien glance?
Some sleep, some wake in deep empyrean space
of God who set them in eternal motion.
I try to capture one – just one- and place
my eye upon the monad of this notion.
Heathen image creeping. Poor aspect. Dull shape.
My monad is a bean; small and brownly baked.
“For Leibniz, the universe is an infinite composite of forces or ‘monads’ which have no space or time. Every monad is a living mirror of the universe, reflecting everything except itself. But, there is no real interaction among them, since each is wholly self-contained; what appears to be causal is just the manifest prior harmony imposed by God.” (History of Philosophy, Thilly)