Artificial Galaxies
In the creases of deepest space, the sky is ablaze with light: fat galaxies, thin galaxies, barred galaxies, ring galaxies, new galaxies, old galaxies, hot
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
In the creases of deepest space, the sky is ablaze with light: fat galaxies, thin galaxies, barred galaxies, ring galaxies, new galaxies, old galaxies, hot
In the irascible search for life the faint twinkling of distant stars expose giant globes of gaseous ferocity; their inferred magnitude drifting too close to
Perched on the edge of perception – Six concentric rings of water, ice, And dust rotate. To the untrained eye you appear Frozen in time.
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
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
Detecting bubbles in the Milky Way, Or sorting a muon and gamma ray; Identifying planets and their stars, Then codifying ice geysers on Mars.
The empty cupboards of our Universe Are filled with neutral cobwebs of potential; All of them waiting for an opportunity To blaze into life and