Answer* Poem by Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light)

So many things
you thought were fantasy
I knew were fact.
So many things
you think are fact
are as yet unproven.

You seek to understand
all that you would know.
You learn absolute truths
in your quest for wisdom.

Do you not know
absolute truths
may fall;
to become mere spectres
of a reality
that never was?

The cold grey light of discovery
rendering phantom discoveries useless.
Haunting fragments of normality
unhinged by the winds of time.

Theories hypothesis
they are but stepping stones
to the future.
Paving the road of knowledge
that leads forwards and sideways
in circles to nowhere.

Mutant seeds born of space
watered to grow or die.
Vaguely seen in the crystals;
of objective existence.
Yet in themselves
they signify nothing.

Conceived as real
in perceptions of present
the interpretations of
the morrow
so seldom apparent.