On Earth, our Sun seems to cyclically shine –
Earth’s whipped around by Sol’s tethered tensions –
but orbits don’t circle; they plot a line
straight through gravity-bent four dimensions.
Earth never returns to the site it left,
except in its relation to the Sun.
Of homes all bodies in space are bereft –
not one of them has a fixed position.
We can see that even space is changing,
as it expands relatively through time.
The galaxies are all rearranging
in cosmic choreography sublime.
Yet we conceive our Sun secured in place,
while Earth pirouettes an annular race.
I thought this sonnet might provide an amusing side feature for the magazine, Icarus. At least it would amuse some editor who had to wade through piles of scholarly, researched articles, to come upon a different kind of piece, focused on researcher perspective instead of mathematical formulae.
To my delight, it made it through two layers of editing/fact checking, and I was even presented with a proof copy as courtesy, to perform a final check for errors. I was incredibly excited about the opportunity to be published with such a prestigious scientific journal.
Unfortunately, when I returned the proof with my approval the managing editor said something to the effect of, “Wait a minute! This is poetry! We don’t publish poetry.”
Sigh! But I present the text here with the originally submitted illustration.
By the way, Sol is the name given to our sun.
and here’s an interesting astrophysical perspective from