Gods Of The Whirled

From the corners four 

The Divine arrive

To tryst once more; 

To create and hear

Music for the spheres. 

Pan picks up his pipes, 

Plays disjointed parts.

Still more to imbibe

Til Pan’s set to start; 

Mars beats on his drum,

A true martial air 

Which Venus contrasts 

With a whistling wind 

O’er waves that do crash

And in crashing, rhyme

With the clashing below 

Where Vulcan forges

Great gifts to bestow 

‘Pon gods and mortals

When Chronos says so.

Now Zeus has arrived 

A lyre held in hand, 

Orders are given 

To that holy band 

Gathered for reasons 

But gods understand, 

Yet all assembled 

Send songs up on high.

Tuned tones from gods fly;

Tones keep heaven’s order,

Keep the spheres in place. 

We can but wonder:

Do the equations 

We’ve struggled to trace

Truly exist?

Or are they and we

Some steps removed 

From all we seem to see,

From real reality?