If knowing I know nothing comforts me,
That out of nothing sudden space commenced
In time to cool and bring forth stars, a galaxy
To mother us and call our own, immense
By our brief human lights, and yet just one
Rotating structure among multitudes,
Then who will notice nothing when were gone;
Can nothing comfort when theres no one left to brood
That out of nothing cooling space commenced?
Perhaps some enterprise beyond our need
For solace in the face of nothing might be sensed
In natures unrelenting laws which heed
No animal or human cry, some yet to be
Vast consciousness, for which I am the seed,
Nurtured from nothing by the light of stars to see
If knowing I know nothing comforts me.
Robert Pack
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This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 16 October 1997, on page 41
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