The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
What makes us suppose that only the living grieve? Now all but lost in this new and familiar world of tall, leaning-together buildings...
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
Newton's Clockwork Universe
In Newton's day
was sort of clockwork. Scientists
imagined God as maker, setting it
in motion. That was it. His bit then done,
the laws of science took control
and He retired to watch.
I wish that I'd lived then - before
this quantum stuff destroyed that pretty scene.
I could have managed in a world like that,
nothing too mind-bending, a lack of useless tatt.
I see myself hypothesising
that the simple frame, the clockwork world
inferred a clockwork God -
no, not retired, but active then as now.
From time to time
we'd have to wind Him up a bit...
but what of that? At least
I would have understood
the way He worked and what
He was about.
In later days we might have thought
up-dating Him to batteries.
But for the then, mankind would know
the blessings of a clockwork will
and of a body that itself
at times could be rewound.
Why did those ancients,
on to such a useful thing,
stop short of the whole hog?