Was it 1905 that the quickening of the world
Became so apparent- when a mundane tram journey
Led mankind from the secure measurable feel of things
To horizons bound by nothing more than abstract light?
Between the bookends of a mere average existence
What prompted his thoughts to ponder those infinite breaths
Taken in immeasurable magnitudes? Was it this, that perverse gallery
Of the everyday, worn through faces reflecting humanity’s static light?
100 years "come and go" the trams keep rolling like some antiquated Victorian mill
And visitors come paying their respects to “something“, for even the greatest,
They shrewdly know must eat, must wash, must defecate and must die, like everyone-
He surely was not, just the mere passing reflection of that quickened light?
