Poetry by Astronomers

         the cosmos doesn’t care
         by Larry Kane

         The cosmos doesn’t care that
         in our striving to understand
         the two extremes of relativity,
         we take comfort
         being nestled between
         the very large and very small.

         The cosmos doesn’t care that
         we don’t understand the nature of the darkness
         that comprises most of its existence
         or why the seekers of answers that best describe it
         are too often displaced in favor of
         knowledge spoon fed to the unquestioning
         and the incurious so they may be
         satisfied and placated and controlled.

         The cosmos doesn’t care that we seek
         a way to go to a home
         we are yet to visit
         or yet to discover as we try to survive
         an event anticipated, if not feared.

         The cosmos doesn’t care that
         our source of life and nourishment,
         in its maturity, will end our planet
         or that our galaxy that spins around
         a super massive knot of gravity
         is on a collision course with our
         equally beautiful spiral neighbor.

         Yet there is a dream that provides and sustains
         the few who can see
         that we must evolve to protect the many
         and create for them a pathway to
         an understanding of the laws and demands
         of a nature that is filled
         with the promise of dreams.

         The trek to go toward this fulfillment
         may be infinite and the rewards
         may be endless, but the cosmos doesn’t care.

         And it doesn’t matter
         as long as we do.

         A galaxy good night
         By Theodore R. Frimet

         Lay the precipice
         and virus wonder.
         Is it science fact In hospice
         that a soul would not ponder?

         However careful fact dissect
         words remain in deep sleep.
         Stand back and yield to truths respect
         seize the moment with sword and weep.

         Stand the gate
         and draw the sword.
         Yield not the truth
         Not today or Ever more.

         With no symptom
         that Death compare.
         A sneeze a cough
         the fever pitched, beware.

         It roils and makes toil
         The bed aches beyond mercy.
         Starling stare seeks to foil
         leaves the ward to be a jury.

         Chests rising, chests falling
         the rhythm stirs not one.
         For five drugs to coma
         Gives us Silence all stolen.

         A Galaxy good night
         To see if not trouble.
         See how they gamble?
         Yet members yield double.

         The pitter patter hear
         Small animals do dwell.
         How so frightening be death
         At whose door will befell?

         Pleasant be the time repose
         By Theodore R. Frimet

         Pleasant be the time repose
         To stain a finger black.
         To vouch and vote
         with vigor, depose.

         Mindful masses and their will
         Crest on havoc
         and joined hands
         For be the night not still.

         Restless warriors carry the sign
         Worries about all apogee
         Feet stomp the storm
         And wait, wait the long line.

         With sheer admission I wonder
         Will the skies above go asunder?
         When ousted a pundit and outed a truth
         Grant us peace and serenity and equity to ‘Boote.

This entry was posted in Mid-summer 2020, Sidereal Times and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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