Fibonacci Poem for the James Webb Space Telescope / Space Race

Fibonacci Poem for the James Webb Space Telescope

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space
 
time
 
rotates

hypnotic

phyllotactical
 
branching into prehistory
 
so deep it’s almost unfathomable to us specks.
 
Earth-clamped, in awe of unravelling galaxies, we are momentarily undone.

Worlds upon worlds contained in a single grain of sand – how can this universe be finite? We follow a chameleon’s tail, ammonite,

conch shell, pine cone, fern unfurling, wave cresting, whirlpool, slow wine, heart beat. Irrational yet intuitive flows, releasing seismic change, reactional heat vortexes in the vast void, luscious dark energy is inscrutable.

We collect photons, claiming them as they redshift, pouring through time to those early, wondrous years. Momentous travelling, eons of light-years, as if an actual moment of light is that simple. What did they have to pass through to reach us? Fragments fragmenting into golden ratios, reflected on beryllium mirrors, beamed back to multicellular mites.
 
Hosting galaxies within, our fibonacci branches of DNA pattern curls of life. Stardust-formed, we bathe in golden sun, seeking stars’ spectra outwith our milk-dust spiral playground. Even hurricanes look beautiful from the moon. We cannot stay – our sun will eat our blue home. Galaxies undone, neutrinos guide us through chaos, teach us how to shape-shift. In earthships with spectrogram portholes, textured reliefs on panelled walls whispering wonders, our rods and cones upgraded to witness imperceptible transitions into theoretical dimensions we can’t yet quite comprehend.

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Space Race

Whit is this race, tae colonise every inch o place?
Tae conteena tae mak a case, that tae diskiver a new race
or species, that wis thair aw alang, mindin thair ain
isnae a disgraceful mindset.

Whan doun here on Earth, we’re aye,
hauf a millenium later
tryin tae repair oor ancestors’ mistakes.

Whit is this rush, tae fling oorsel intae th cosmic dust,
whan we hiv nae way o wairnin oor alien freends
tae brace thaimsel for us?

As if it’s oor God-gien richt tae taste
whit is oot thare –
tae terraform these exoplanets intae a shape
we can recognise.

This hypnotic curiosity call:
It loops aroond oor waist,
like a 1960s plasma ray.
Than, as we laund on alien syle,
wi th broun jaw earth unner oor white buits,
th black voids o oor pupils dilate
n we chuise tae forget
whit is naw oors.

How tae behave, as an unbiddin, disease-ridden guest?
Some will say we’re just here tae observe,
while makin attempts at categorisation
whan thair way o reproduction
is so unalike oor ain, we cannae fathom
th paurent-bairn connection.

Or thair wey o consumption –
absorbin ilk ither – doesna compute
are thay canabalistic,
inferior, savage, unintelligent?

Aye.

We hivnae th tongue
tae howp tae descrive thair alien customs,
behaviors, bodily functions, enviromental interactions
Who are we tae mak those juidgements?

Oh, we are ripe
for misunnerstaundin, misconstrain, accidentally decimatin…
But we are ripe,
for ee-appenin wunner, acceptance, freendship, interspecies
datin, luvin aw oor permutations.

Whit is this quest, tae airt oot th theory o awthing,
as we chuise tae see it?
Hou can a true intergalactical species interaction skae,
whan we think we ken aw thare is tae ken.
This relentless need tae explain awa th unexplainable.
Wi na particles left tae thair ain devices –
tae chuise whit life is.

Dinnae git me wrang.
I want tae learn whit th universe hauds,
tae discover th strange and th new.
Like you, like maist o us dae,
I want in ma lifetime tae taste
th utopian dream – a harmonic populace.
Meet ither beings wi that we can exchange
Wheen sort o inklin and ken
Aw that we misglim on th daily:
we are naw, we are naw alane.

In wan haund I haud coal, th ither gallons of sauls,
n am tellin you we need tae tread light
wi oor curiosity.
Whan it’s really th drive tae airt oot th wey back
tae th essence o life
that we think we’v misplaced.