Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter



There is a restlessness
In what science thinks is a void
Beyond the edge of this universe,
A knot of cells dividing in
The airless space where nothing
Should be.

Science is an assumption
That the rest of the unknown
Should remain so, and only
Known mysteries pursued.

The knot doubles each second,
A sentient alien mass of knowledge
Older than time was before
The universe exploded.
It is made of thoughts not chemistry,
Of emotions not numbers.

Unknown secrets made us.

R 17/09/2023 20:05

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