by Gideon Burton
Where ends the world or where it all began,
disorder thick with order, dark with light,
from primal chaos, womankind and man.
How tardy comes our story, squinting sight,
but eagerly we chart the eons, scan
the atoms, reading genes and comets, dazed
at each continuum, minute or grand.
More magnitudes extend the cosmic maze.
And yet, however vast our growing scope
we close parameters by reasoned thought.
What are those worlds we've chosen not to note
insisting systemed knowledge as we ought?
Our ignorance compounds as knowledge grows;
for good or ill, for now, nobody knows.
Photo: flickr - kingarthur10