And where begin….?

The insects in the insect bottle we are in

Our glory-holes are local; our perceptions dim

Ah, for a muse of fire! Promethean!

God’s sway: inept wares like a sceptre, out-of-date

The whole thing of High Majesty carries no weight

In a democratic haze which shifts, mimics the weather,

...and whether where for trees diviners see what’s manifest,

The fact of God: necessitous and a priori

Fantastically outrageous each iota of our presence

Dismissed as being as-is – and bland existence no big deal

A throwaway complaisance for the strangeness of the real

The Word disfigured in predations; rival peers

Would dare, dissecting dear beatitudes, to pore

Galore with formal fingers

As if the world was theirs, the veriest inkling

Whom sat in seasoned chairs owe all their thinking

And place, to gratis Grace; and misconception

The basement standards; feet, metres; the gospel declarations

Orbit, and gravitation, generation, light, rock, metal

By presence blare their place of normal context magic, special

The shores of every mind are are introduced to puzzle

Their tides run out; turned, baffled, and can no further go

The elementals baulk and block; nor is there window

But that which lights on God and on his grand armfuls plentiful

Awe streakers of us would preclude a fireworks night

Extol, as thought themselves, all hail!, to human reason

By which they cut a trench, exposing enclosed strata

Reveal in CGI a secret seam; godlike personae

Accelerate and elevate to abject idyllic status

That icing of a cake which breaks to taste too fulsome

And overprized, above its impecuniary animal situation

Our intellectual block and tackle idolised as brains

Maintaining science eye-surveillance religiosity

Its closet prurience would substitute as white-suit worship

Which slips lopsidedly in by the back way – self-aggrandisement

Sends to the fore: adore what men can do

Bare reason, poor forked animal persuasion

Expounds on its domain; the conqueror of worlds,

And universe: and not averse to megalomania...

What if, a gift, contoured only for local paraphernalia?

And mind a cereal planted on the grounds of close proximity

Elsewhere bare reason out of season bears no stock-root:

Wrong vicinity.

At stranger magnitudes, or places of differing genesis?

A mould as Newton uses parses very naturally;

Well with considered needs consorting in our comfort zone

The fit most dapper, as the cap suits so we wear it

Believing consonance, we cede; his laws acclimatise

But far out of our jar, where insects may not crawl

Apprised experience deserts us; only speculation grows

Adepts as Einstein posited another liquid rule

Whereon infringe behaviours; they were Newton’s overthrow

And if a shift of paradigms as Einstein’s intervenes

Exclaiming new-found radii wherein to move in measure

Astounding, not before seen, on the floor and dancing

The tread a Sarabande and in swung other halls advancing

Admitting of exits, entrances, uncanny for the finding

Or more, flow sambas so bizarre they beggar understanding

Confessing logics human sentience can have no dab-hand in

Professing finished limits to us: how might God then stand when

Austere dissectors’ divinations chop, divide, the cud

And delve into the very thews of outer mystery

And bring up subtle pattern each: toils of Beelzebub

Could tempt no better than their findings in their schemes

And hint as perspicacious; gauged beyond esteem

And yet this ceremonious testimonial’s Swindon steam

That tooled-up, one-horse reasoners think to scour their arid plains

When this and that, in fact, are that and this, in other domains?

And some domains perhaps prolapse the sacred whorls of reason

No privy access granted to the human mind estranged;

As for the ways of God, way out beyond our darkest range

Until we get there with Him, and in an eye-blink shall be changed