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 we’re gone;
Can nothing comfort when there’s 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 nature’s 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.

This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 16 Number 2, on page 41
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