New poem

Milky Way

They stopped counting at four hundred billion.
Just threw in the towel.
Resorted to a shorthand of equations, accompanied
by hair-pulling and other frantic gesticulations.

That’s a lot of stars, of suns–
but still only one, single galaxy,
not an especially distinguished
galaxy at that.

Kind of humbling, isn’t it?
To realize from a cosmic perspective we’re
the equivalent of country bumpkins, living
wayyyy out in the boonies.

And so can any god suffice?
Persuade us of a divine flame
burning invisibly within us, shining
like one of those stars?

Or have you murdered faith,
Galileo, by measuring the glory of
Creation with your heretical gaze,
recanting except in your heart?

 

© Copyright, 2015 Cliff Burns (All Rights Reserved)

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