An image forms upon my screen,
an orange ring around a void,
black centre of our Milky Way
where lies, a confident voice declares,
the voracious end of time.
Yet then it seems an image appears,
a wispy imprint of time’s death, a non-existent Energy, Credit: NASA's Goddard Space Flight Centre
follows the other figuring mass,
multiplied in squares of light.
Wherefrom derives this miracle?
And could there be another imprint
navigating space unseen? A force sought
perhaps by Donne, by Shakespeare,
beyond time which has a stop?
We should not ensconce the self
in seeming knowledge
but submit to unknown fear
in All’s Well affirmed LaFew.
The rarest argument of wonder
was Parolles’ strange reply
Why does such language print
magic traces on the mind?
What made Prospero’s Tempest rage,
cease yet live on Shakespeare’s stage?
©Terry Hodgson2020
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