The Gods

     "most beautiful cosmos, heap of sweepings"
 
Can't control the details.
Can't manage the details.
Details are in control
And do the managing.
 
They're innumerable,
Everything, everywhere,
Whatever generates
That which regenerates,
 
Hidden in the background
Of even zero-point
Radiation, waving
And winking at all scales,
 
The creators of us,
Judges of every plan,
Jurors of our desires,
Parts greater than all sums,
 
Causes that slip the mesh
Of finest measurements,
Sink through atoms, become
Randomness, and vanish.
 
Details are the beauty
In places of decay,
The sirens of silence,
The fine-grained calm of pain,
 
The explanations seen
From out of the corner
Of hindsight's startled eye,
The faeries of the real.