47 Tucanae Poem by Robert Scott Cohn

Those veiws with overtones in Religion
fly in the face of, us with a vision
expanding universes.. primeval atomic
we find we are not alone.
Are these views now so drastic?

The epiphany of island expansion
smoking gun on the the mantle of the mansion
nothing that is..is as it was
transgression from the world of means.

A spinning neutron star
the music of a millisecond pulsar
singing us a song from afar
from millions of light years away
a place where we all belong.

Those of us with authentic vision
fly in the face.. of those rooted in Religion
smoking gun on the mantle of expression
nothing that was, is as it seems
relation within the world of dreams.