A Window on the Best of Possibilities

    —String Theory postulates that everything
    is made of vibrating, elastic strings

Through the observatory lens stuck in my window,
my weak eyes reach out to landscapes
and starscapes beyond. I focus hard on the hope
that what I dream is seed to bloom on sky and land,
that my small telescope can pull both past
and future back to show me how far
the curious soul has traveled.

If I cannot see, I hope to hear the strings
vibrating through all of time and space.

If I cannot hear, I hope to see spiral galaxies
brushing their arms together in a painting of heaven,
so I or some starstruck creature worlds away
might find words to tie us all together.

No string of any world is a loose end.
The stars tell their stories in winks
and hide among storming clouds.
Still I vibrate with hope, wait for lightning,
and keep my window clean.