The Broken Sonnet

Looks like something else, disturbs
The universe of Shakespeare,
Genghis Khan, caves of fossil
Bones of apes somewhat like us,

The anonymous mothers
Of the original names--
It is not what it appears
To be trying to disguise.

It's a sunny Saturday
When the long gas filaments
Gleaming like clouds in the light
Near the black hole and are gone.

Can information be lost,
Not just hidden or misplaced,
Not knowing just compacted,
Wisdom too dense to displace?

Information's not knowing;
Information's not wisdom.
Knowing's nothing, the nothing
Free, alone, that comes and goes.