Every now and again, then yet again, science floats up
out of her silence. Parallel Universes, she whispers, or
String Theory, Uncertainty Theory or Newton's Laws of Motion.
Some poets, painters, and dancers and drummers look up
from what they've been doing to tune in. Tell me about it,
they sometimes think, but, knowing, don't say a thing.
To know or not to know - this is the kiss, the lick to cherish
and woodshed for the moment light shines on all we know.