Since we ourselves learned how to create,
We’ve pondered our night sky’s creation.
“Twinkle, Twinkle,” was the song we sang,
Till Science showed stars are condensate
Of dust and background radiation
From the silent light of the Big-Bang.

We thought their movements controlled our fate,
Reflecting Divine machination --
Shining destinies placed out to hang --
But Physics has informed us of late,
Through sub-atomic perspication,
Uncertainty’s the first law which sprang
From the Chaos that fostered our state,
And this precludes predestination;
Phenomenology’s the harangue.

Dwarfed by the studies that made us great,
Adrift in cosmic segregation,
We find quark-serpents sharpest of fang.
 
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