Of it, can nothing be told.
You can tell nothing-
By it,
Nor thru it.
Tis but a passing shadow..
Aye but not..
For e'en a shadow
Telleth of a thing.
It is
A salutation to
our un-omniscience.
A byword for a lack of
Connection.
How can we,
Submit our theories to the law,
And smuggle it in
With chance..
A woolen cloak for
Cold
Ignorance.
Tightly sewn..
In the cloth of time.
Remove the stitch,
And reveal the divine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem