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Emblazoned on this Western Isle, unfinished as a draughtsmans sketch, Shine bright the Chess Men, standing strong, Like fishermen waiting on a ketch. Some face this way, others that, But all intent with pride, That come what may, in this Galaxy, Their purpose will over ride. The cashed hooks, all around, Throw ripples on the Land, These Rounds of Rock, these Dimpled Stones, Glowing white with Silver Sand. But suddenly the drawing board ripped clean, And the Blueprint Cartoon, unseen, Swept aside, covered in some rip tide, Lost forever In the blackened heather. Now, emblazoned on this Lewissian Isle, Unfinished as a gaint jig saw, These Pieces come together, Show Light beyond half open door. The Knowledge, plain in view, But what reference point to use, Each Discovery comes closer yet But still no Breakthrough News. The Answer is here, Plainly, pike station our face, Observatory Site no doubt But the Chemistry of this Place, If written down, Compared with Views all around, Will surely point to Microcosm Of Chaos, In Outer Space. Calcite CaCo3 |