In pursuit of perfection’s guarantee
we chase that which is better than the best.
Nothing could not “ten times the better be”
as steadied, then readied, for Time’s cruel test.
All the world’s treasuries do not stand still;
those with gold glint, with crystals shimmer.
Those animated vaults of potential
are the genesis of hopeful glimmer.
Flushed with abundance, they lack not any
of the comforts that come with fortune’s care.
That which is ‘one’ finds itself with ‘many’
and so on, ten times, produces an heir.
. Ten times the merrier, ten times the wealth.
. Ten times the better, through sickness and health.
© Tim Grace, 20 April 2013
To the reader: The idea of abundance sounds agrarian to an urban ear. As a man of his time, Shakespeare was an advocate of reap and harvest, stack and store; his reference was a time of uncertainty. Ten times the better be… seems his ideal solution to a number of problems. The simple model derives sufficient resources from a stash of plenty. It’s about making the most of what’s available, to ensure today’s waste or laziness is not tomorrow’s sorrowful regret.
To the poet: In a few of Shakespeare’s sonnets he refers to ‘ten’ as a number of good use and satisfaction. Ten times the better be for all manner of circumstances; from procreation (WS-S6) to imagination (WS-S38) for happiness (WS-S37) and amusement. And so began my sonnet (TG-S217)) about over-reaching for the sake of abundance; ever the need for surplus … just in case.
She speaks of dark matter, she seeks its clue.
She maps the empty, voluminous void
that fills the heavens with galactic glue;
such keeps the Queen of Science full employed.
Visible space (her realm) she understands.
The pull of planets and the death of stars;
the gaseous clusters that time expands;
with curiosity she’s there on Mars.
But what of the vast unknown, the unseen,
the invisible, lightless, hidden mass?
What sense does she make of the in between?
As yet, it would seem, not that much, alas!
. Chaos reigns above the Queen’s universe,
. order favours the black night … quite perverse!
© Tim Grace, 10 August 2012
To the reader: The Queen of Science is mathematics. Her realm, comprised of all things great and small, is understood through the logic of numbers. As with the best of monarchs, she is most interested in relationships; how things bond and bridge. The Queen’s interests follow the path of human curiosity: deep seas and shallow shores; heaven and earth; the living and the dead. She’s a woman of substance and structure; as real as she is abstract; as infinite as she is nothing.
To the poet: I remember flying, from here to there, with a popular science magazine as company. Page after page of ‘new science’ flipped before my eyes; with each flip came an array of impressive numbers; usually well-beyond my comprehension. Obviously impressed, I used my simple understanding to pay homage to the Queen of Science. The sonnet has a simple structure with the last stanza acting as counterpoint … but … there is much to learn.