A Blemish in Our Atmosphere
Between the curves where space and sky entwine, The air is stripped by violent, solar flow; A savagery inherently benign, When matched with what arises
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Between the curves where space and sky entwine, The air is stripped by violent, solar flow; A savagery inherently benign, When matched with what arises
Within the salt-encrusted lakes of time, Are secret bubbles formed by primal cast; We excavate these drops from faded brine, To understand the structure of
Within the cradle of a burning core, You wither down and find yourself well worn; As untold pressures crush and shape and bore, Your substance
Within the burning heart of molten rocks, Great pressures forced your brilliance to shine; Inclusions marred your body with their pocks, A brownish hue now
You voyaged in the trail of pioneers, To shed new light on Saturn and its rings; By imaging its many circling spheres, We glimpsed into
When looking out into the starry night The blackness that we see is just a mask; This shrouded veil conceals our darkest light, And
A glowing orb, reflecting distant light, You calm and soothe our planet’s ebb and flow; But how much can we say we truly know, When
Cast out by winds too fierce to call a home, You sail on seas unbearable to roam; The fury of this interstellar gale Ensured an
The final act of some forgotten star, Unleashes unseen light at breakneck speed; And once these cosmic rays have journeyed far, Into our atmosphere they
Detecting bubbles in the Milky Way, Or sorting a muon and gamma ray; Identifying planets and their stars, Then codifying ice geysers on Mars.