Should Neither Repetitions Nor Variations End

If you’re used to city stars
Or suburban, small-town stars,
You can recognize a few

Of the big constellations—
The Dipper and Orion
For instance—but then it’s weird

To find them on a clear night
In dark skies, sharing the stage
With thick crowds of lesser lights

Filling the gaps around them.
Likewise, the space telescope
Keeps producing new pictures

Of familiar entities
Sparklingly detailed, but now
Attended by curious

Crowds of red ghost galaxies
Billions of light years distant,
Like a concert audience

Glimpsed over a star’s shoulder,
Glimmering, packing dim space.
Whether or not they’re watching,

Paying any attention,
Possessed of motivations
Of their own, it’s unsettling

That each time your eyes adjust
There’s just more and more and more.
Sure you really want to know?