I was the one born. He died.
I went to college. Then we met.
Two children. A grandchild. It’s all probability.
My story, all our stories, will end.
Probably, no calculation for randomness and choices.
A p-value is a real thing used mostly in finance as a measure of the probability that an observed difference could have occurred just by random chance.
At the garden edges, the volunteer seedlings
grow on their own despite my human
weeding deliberations at order, symmetry and control.
Thankfully not reliably identical to their parents.
Volunteers try modestly to change the world.
Lychnis coronaria Rose Campion
is an arrow of increasing correlations and
one’s perception is movement from known past
to unknown future, but we find randomness
that cannot be undone on this quantum walk.
Entropy increases but all the possibilities exist.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.
For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.
― T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets