Do there exist many worlds, or is there but a single world? This is one of the
most noble and exalted questions in the study of Nature.
– Albertus Magnus, thirteenth century
As I gaze on the wood; westerly lit
By a March sun, setting in a clearing sky
Reflections turn to those at their winter’s end
A friend’s father, a friend’s mother, mine own:
And all others: my friends and mine own…
The wood wavers less as the winds subside
Their shadows lengthen and the streams dry
Their shadows fade as the sun continues to glide
Somewhere between dark and light spirits fly
Gray now; decayed, obscured by phantom clouds
Brilliant, beautiful light resounds fleeting, recondite.
Morning beautiful, mourning still the rite.
–Robert Pennington Price