The Scientific Method and Its Cultured Despisers

I wish I had a little more time.
The soap bubble’s quick burst was too fast
to glimpse the action or reaction,
the force vectors or the stress tensor,
by addition or by subtraction.
I can just see them now in my mind,
some dust mote’s casual passing prick
and the skin peeling back like a click.
But to capture it all with my eyes
requires a more subtle device.

Here there’s a choice with diverging tracks:
in one I extend my eye making
it larger or quicker or sharper
or zipping up to a passing zone
for dicier turns, then doubling back;
or put the universe on the rack,
twist it around my thumb till it’s black
and blue and numb and more compliant.
All this to achieve a vision
of things not seen by candlelight,
beyond the scope of normal sight
and off the edge of every map.

Some would prefer not to see further.
To them the rainbow makes a full stop
at color, at brevity, at hints
of unexplored lands best left that way.
Keep ghosts or dragons just out of sight
lest they vanish like all summertime.
Looking’s a risk: what if nothing’s there?
Better delusions than technical
details stretching on forever.
But that dullness is the delusion
is my faith: however we look,
inside or through or beyond it,
when the rainbow finally fades,
what remains will be more, not less.

Explore posts in the same categories: poetry

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2 Comments on “The Scientific Method and Its Cultured Despisers”

  1. It is more than less. Thank you – this is insightful.

  2. dantrewear Says:

    Great! We need more poetry and thinking like this… I’m an earth scientist of sorts; it enlarges my faith to think of a 4.6 billion year old Earth. Imagine a God at least that old…
    best, Dan

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