This poem is only notionally science connected. 

 

I am cheerfully plundering science for the concept of entanglement as I have always been intrigued by particles that, having once danced together, remain for ever thereafter connected, even if separated by the universe.

Entanglement

 

These are the spaces I fill

with words,  

created

by absence:

... yours ...

and mine.

Words,

that in a master's hands,

shape,

carve,

chisel,

to free

the shadows of self, 

hidden in the darkfast.

THESE WORDS

dance,

on the edges of the universe.

 

Waves of words

release,

prowl,

wound. 

A howl of words

to scour night-desert sands

and pierce,

through the naked eye,

to inner seeming, 

interpretation, 

judgment of the heart.

 

 

These words I fill with space.

 

Interludes  

 

s     t     r     e     t     c     h     i     n     g    

to greater and greater eternities.

With each successive retreat from the shore,

each frantic scramble for height,

for a haven of safety, 

far above, on the lonely cliff-ledge

or: the rush back, to the darkness

of a stormy, tide-pulled deeps; 

there is  only ever need for the silence,

and for solitude.

 

This space, 

created by uncertain, 

fragile hands;

a space of hesitation, 

of fear,

of hardening:

yields.

A singular call gives rise 

to re-connection.

Drawn, like waters

by the waxing of the moon, 

to rise from the dark, 

to return to the shore,

to meet on the tideline,

in the fullness of a silvered light.

This is our choreography:

pace,

timing,

movement ...

Harmony and dissonance flow,

together tell a story of the role played by space

in a tightly coupled, yet eternally separated dance;

two electrons yearning 

on opposite sides of their expanding universe,

for a way to remain

connected.

Fiona Mackintosh (© 2011, 2017, 2018)

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