Peyton Manning Reflects upon the Fundamental Unknowability of a Universe Defined by Probability Alone

What I wanted was a quiet moment when

the faded but still present noise would fill

my conscious concentration, leaving my will

alone; arrayed within my vision, men

like motes moving in liquid, Brownian,

but, to a mind—if sensitized, if skilled—

though arbitrary, apprehensible.

All this—just this—is what I wanted; then

a random error—outcome of measurements

and observation, imprecision, luck,

and deviation, human failing, God—

occurred; the eye and ear are instruments,

each ultimately imprecise, and fuck!—

reveal all sense of order: lies and fraud.