Edward Wright Haile
In Search Of A Theory
How microscropic do my parts have to be
before you couldn’t tell they were alive?
Where does this notion of eternity
at large within a whispered soul derive?
How do parts know that? Do they know aught else?
Who’re the smallest things that know I live?
Or say what rung of magnitude first tells
my parts they live, they die, they have reprieve?