Westerbork Synthesis Radio Telescope
We astronomers are nomads,
Merchants, circus people,
All the earth our tent.
We are industrious.
We breed enthusiasms,
Honour our responsibility to awe.
But the universe has moved a long way off.
Sometimes, I confess,
Starlight seems too sharp,
And like the moon
I bend my face to the ground,
To the small patch where each foot falls,
Before it falls,
And I forget to ask questions,
And only count things.
I haven't been updating my blog for quite a while. Lost the drive, the motiviation, the inspiration. Reading back Rebecca's poem triggered a renewed urge to revisit the blog. Since last post many things have happened: travelled to Hawaii twice and suffered the loss of my father in law.
No resolutions for the new year. Nevertheless, I hope to give the blog a bit more attention.