A poem by: Ben Dunk. October 23, 1971.




Called up in the future,

are the stars of sine.

Where the chasm of departure,

floweth, twisting through the infine.


Whilst moons pirouette in turn,

With cymbal’s and trumpet sounds,

everyone here on Earth

wonders fearful at the awesome sights

in the night sky.

So brilliant hued.


There are the bears moving in spotty spurts.

the Pole Star leaping from place to place.

Closer cometh the Planet Jupiter;

so large and looming.


Flashing by goeth the Sun

and all the time,

only the World is reeling.

Only the ‘poor old’ Earth is careening,

out of place in space.

Too slow for human senses to feel;

save the sense of sight to view

and the disturbing experiences

make people over-keel;

not knowing fate’s edginess.