We adapt and flex as rubber,
because, for us searchers, wonder
finds answers that aren’t writ in stone,
but instead adjusts the language
and syntax as sand to the wind,
yet, the questions go unanswered.
Going without the staff of Sheppard
we can’t lean on things unseen now,
and must fight with reason to be
certain of what we’ve discovered
within the shy edge of an atom
or the depths deep within cosmic
nebulae gasses expanding
into stellar regions unknown.
Here on earth a while we listen,
content ourselves to drink our drop
of beer, unlearn ruling dictum,
and give no faith to a system
so changing as Brownian Motion.
So, go now and question the spheres,
overturn the doctrines of old,
and laugh so hard that even a stake
lit with fires of holy hate
could not burn up your search for truth.
The Poetry Of J.P. 