Come, your theory of everything, <br />to unpick the manifold stitches; <br />string, M, Einstein's requiem, <br />to mine the quantum ditches. <br /> <br />I believe we have dined out before, <br />in this or some other dimension, <br />under clinical conditions you probed a cavernous soul, <br />finding only introspection. <br /> <br />Hither, among the neutrinos, <br />are a host of quarks and gluons, <br />and at some discernable point, <br />only the void can conquer your affections. <br /> <br />You function on certainty and determinism <br />but I still have my doubts. <br />Abstraction only leads to reduction; <br />your leaving me bares this out. <br /> <br />Eyes, mourning jewels in a momentary utopia, <br />sail bubbles in an indefinite ether, <br />I climb aboard that mysterious ship of fools <br />and can affirm the view is better.<br /><br />Morgan Sweet<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/come-hither-eyes/
