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Give me the humility of the physicist
who knows how little we know
of anything. Four percent is measurable
and we don’t know the meaning of
even that. All this room in there:
the swirling dark matter and energy
only known because of how it acts
on the known. I find love in that:
no one knows what it is but we all
crave it. From the inside out and from
the outside in. Come let me meet you
where knowing and not-knowing meet.
I’ll hold the boat steady as you climb in.
Where the river goes is more river
disappearing into fog. But oh, what fog.
Copyright 2018 Doug Anderson