WHEN I WAS ALONE AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD

by Charles Carreon

When I was alone at the edge of the world

I listened to the cries of birds sailing

   out far beyond the rim.

I gazed at the stars implanted in their

   strange geometries,

Out of reach.

Now I have listened to the songs of scientists,

Playing their lines and graphs like lute-strings,

Making good guesses with strange methods,

Phrasing their questions in terms my dreaming eyes

   would never have conceived.

Then again the old mystery swamps me;

Amid the wreckage of torn charts and battered sails,

All destinations suspended,

What I cannot disbelieve yet turns to mist

   before my eyes.

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