Tribute to Stephen Hawking, by Michael Carding

A BRIEF HISTORY IN RHYME     (in three parts) by Michael Carding

Solar Sonnet

Aristotle’s nested spheres

Described the universe for years;

Copernicus, in middle age,

Set the sun at centre stage;

Galileo, Kepler too,

Confirmed through telescopic view;

Newton drilled right to the core,

Motion kept within the law.

God and man, creative tension,

Somewhere in the fourth dimension.

Then Einstein steps onto the line

Challenging both Space and Time,

Urging light and thoughts to bend:

When did it start? Where will it end?

Epitaph for Hawking

Time and Space freed from linear finity,

Philosophers and mathematicians out of the box,

Poets break the bonds of metre and rhyme:

Absolute expansion!

If not constrained by wheelchair and communication

Then not constrained.

Insignificant, yet each new thought,

As if from a big bang, ripples and radiates

Into a universe of ideas.

Wave upon wave, increasing energy, ever expanding.

The holy grail of

Relativity reconciled to quantum:

The Treaty of Creation between God and man

Signed in a heavenly black hole.

Coda

Philosophy and physics blend

With poetry, where will it end?

Here and now.

    (Stephen Hawking died 14^th March 2018)

                                   .

The Grail, by Justin Roberts

When I heard a rumour that one of the knights who undertook the quest for the Holy Grail was still living, I felt I could not rest until I had spoken with him. Many had heard the story, but few had any notion of where he lived, and even his name seemed to be in dispute. It was only after many tedious journeyings I discovered him. His name was Bors, and he lived a solitary hermit in a desolate forest. He was now an extremely old man, and it was immediately clear that for many years he had cared nothing for his appearance or the condition of his clothes. For a long time he met my queries with immovable silence, but at length, either out of pity or wearied by my endless importunities, he began to talk, like one who had almost forgotten the use of his mother-tongue or the sound of his own voice.

He began to tell the long story of how the company of knights set forth to find the Grail, through dark and trackless forests and over perilous mountains, how they battled monsters and giants, how they endured endless traps and temptations laid before them by devils, how the faint-hearted abandoned the quest as one year followed another, though the valiant few pressed onward, sustained by the vision ……  But all these stories I had already heard, so I cut short his account with impatient questions.

What did your companions propose to do with the Grail when they found it? This question for the first time appeared to animate him.

- You do not DO anything with the Grail. It is not for USE. The Grail IS, and always will be: that is all. It exists, beyond all time and all space. Nothing more is required. He who has seen the Grail has beheld all the secrets of the universe: of life, of death, and of the life to come.

And these secrets are?

- They cannot be expressed in words.

I felt that little was being learnt, so I moved to a new line of questioning.

How did you find it?

- Not through any effort or merit of ours. The Grail is not to be ferreted out or dug for, like some sack of buried gold. It may permit itself to be found. Only one who is wholly without sin can find the Grail. He must not only be pure and undefiled in his actions, but in his words too, and even in his thoughts. As a sinful man, I could not come near it, but as an act of grace far beyond my deserts, I was permitted to glimpse it, from a distance, for an instant. That momentary vision I have held in my mind ever since, and I desire nothing but to continue to meditate upon it.

What did the Grail look like?

- It is beyond any description.

But it must have had a shape, a colour?

- It has all colours, many of which human eyes cannot perceive, and at the same time it has no colour. It is not confined in a single fixed shape, as mortal objects are: it embodies in itself all the shapes that ever are, or were, or could be.

By this time, I was beginning to wonder whether my journey had been wasted. Either he was simply a fraud, or he was a deluded old man lost in a dense fog of impenetrable mysticism, and unable to convey any useful information. In anger I said, I do not believe you found the Grail at all: in fact, I begin to doubt whether the Grail even exists.

- No matter, he said, for I know I saw the Grail. That is sufficient. I am at peace.