Let the futurologists,
science fiction writers write,
Dick, Ballard, Aldiss, Bradbury
I have had my
childhood fill of them
and
whether Hell, Heaven, nothingness
who can say
what comes after
I myself have no idea
if the
Universe has pattern, if
it will submit to shape,
be reconciled to order
too much jagged asteroid, white-
hot plasma, black hole, comet
of foreboding
for my
taste, to
my liking
unless
this be the darkness, the scream-
absent silence, where
begins imagination.
Author Ray Davis - In Search of the Truth 