POETRY
Posted: Tue Oct 01, 2013 10:26 pm
When I Was Alone At The Edge Of The World, by Charles Carreon
When I was alone at the edge of the world
I listened to the cries of birds sailing
out far beyond the rim.
I gazed at the stars implanted in their
strange geometries,
Out of reach.
Now I have listened to the songs of scientists,
Playing their lines and graphs like lute-strings,
Making good guesses with strange methods,
Phrasing their questions in terms my dreaming eyes
would never have conceived.
Then again the old mystery swamps me;
Amid the wreckage of torn charts and battered sails,
All destinations suspended,
What I cannot disbelieve yet turns to mist
before my eyes.
When I was alone at the edge of the world
I listened to the cries of birds sailing
out far beyond the rim.
I gazed at the stars implanted in their
strange geometries,
Out of reach.
Now I have listened to the songs of scientists,
Playing their lines and graphs like lute-strings,
Making good guesses with strange methods,
Phrasing their questions in terms my dreaming eyes
would never have conceived.
Then again the old mystery swamps me;
Amid the wreckage of torn charts and battered sails,
All destinations suspended,
What I cannot disbelieve yet turns to mist
before my eyes.