In the dream there was a song playing ,on and off, throughout the
strange evening , as the gracious leaves of a long row of broad trees
intertwined with a repeating refrain ; the remnant of some
experimental confirmation of a theory of almost everything
Now, in my dream, I sat up ,in this place as in my sight
that was which was bad and not my bad, held
two dissecting paths on either side
of a luscious low and full maple standing
stable as a mountain, in the midst of the falling gloom
And all about me were particles, singing and
moving rapidly, so many variations as they
selected flight and refracture processes
neutrinos large and small, transformations and permutations
Moving sylph-like to everything, as I sat up in that bed, watching
the truth, before me, of the smallest quarks that have made up
you and me and all of every single thing
In the summer meadow of my dream I was
out in the field by the paths going left ,and then right
as the blue sky of endlessness peered far beyond
And all about me listened to that song
of leaving behind and excitations;
mediation of known subatomic particles; still
falling short of the protons of mere household dust
While the very last chorale raised voice to neutrinos, mixing with
particles within quantum fields ,where holding mass enlightened;
their dynamics summarized, weak or strong, yet
falling short of empathy for the theory of confrontation
Fallen into deep rose bedcovers , my pillows
pulling me back into the range of somnolence
haranguing myself to now return to my bedroom
from this place that, though filled with wonder
was exhausting and contentious and shrill
Full throated continuing to proclaim things such as
Strong Nuclear Reactions! Higgs boson! The Standard Model!
But by then I had turned my face from it , turned body into bedclothes; mind reeling, as even in sleep, I realized that
These things shall come , and these things shall go
but I need not know
And, resolute, pulled close my covers, and I slept
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