Gravity - Poem by Conor Dowd
In a cinematic still the apple must descend -
but that depends on gravity,
In Lincolnshire today the tree survives,
an icon of invention,
of a driven life,
its mass weighed down by centuries
of time and trial.
The crescent moon remains intact
a sliver in the sky,
a marble motion held as fact.
But a pact with science drove him mad
and teased him with unfinished clues
to choose a path
or loose his mind instead:
the crossroads of his life arrived -
one way was Life,
the other Life denied.
A flash of inspiration sliced the sky
as lightning flashed across his eyes...
And an apple falls and splits the air -
a shadow in the evening light
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