Under heaven, staring
At a glowing image
Circling gravity-lensed
Galaxies, the deepest
View yet, the glass screen says,
Though it won’t be for long,
The galaxies themselves
Look no more than sparkly
To the untrained eye, bent
As by a fisheye lens,
Which, in a way, they are.
It’s the explanation
Of the perspective that’s
More truly head-spinning
At first, casual glance—
Someone not betraying
Affinity for Blake
Explains that the picture
Spans as much of the sky
As would be occluded
By a grain of sand held
At arm’s length while standing.
All those galaxies crowd
In their scintillations
From a young universe,
However many stars,
Exploding from one glimpse
Of a sky-patch the size
Of a grain of sand. Souls
Who dwell in realms of day,
Seeing God in human
Form, what does this display?
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