A poem tonight about the universe and everything in it.
I am sitting in a hotel room, watching cars and trucks hurtling down the highway in the dark. It is late. Wisconsin time, it is a little past midnight. My time, it's past 1 a.m. From my vantage point, I can't see any stars in the sky. Just blackness.
There are worlds out there. Distant asteroids and meteors and clouds of cosmic gas.
Saint Marty is just too tired to think about anything deeper than a handful of M&Ms.
Worlds
by: Richard Wilbur
For Alexander there was no Far East,
Because he thought the Asian continent
India ended. Free Cathay at least
Did not contribute to his discontent.
But Newton, who had grasped all space, was more
Serene. To him it seemed that he'd but played
With several shells and pebbles on the shore
Of that profundity he had not made.
Swiss Einstein with his relativity -
Most secure of all. God does not play dice
With the cosmos and its activity.
Religionless equations won't suffice.
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