THE SHAPE OF SPACE

I wrote this poem after listening to a radio programme about the shape of the universe. It was fascinating stuff and set me thinking.

The Shape of Space

Split seconds after that Big Bang,

it all flew apart,

glad to be free from the nose to toe compression,

in that constricting cosmic egg of everything,

pushing the envelope ever outwards,

Red Shift in its wake.

Or so my radio tells me, explaining the science of creation

so that even the likes of me can grasp the magnitude of the event.

Then we are on to possible parallel universes.

Either the infinite yo-yoing of matter,

that creates one universe after another,

or fast/slow bubbles,

each a meta-galaxy replete with its own physical laws.

Some people live their whole lives in such places.

I know this for a fact as I was once a tourist,

spent four years in such a reality.

It was easy enough to cross over,

even though there were no guide books.

I had more difficulty getting back

but managed it in the end.

You know, some people,

spend their whole life in such places.

Once as a tourist,

I did four years heavy time in such a reality.

It was easy enough to cross over into your world,

even without a guide book,

but getting back was difficult

though I managed it in the end.

Though getting back was difficult

I managed it in the end

In my ear the cosmologists

continue to debate,

who’s right and why,

it doesn’t matter to you,

burdened, as you are,

by things you can never let go of.

It is a long poem for me, usually my work is more compact but I think this one works. I often see if the poem will work if I remove this word or that, and if it does the word goes. 

Here's Spirit and Star Trek Dreaming from their classic album Future Games.

Until next time.