It issues forth from beyond comprehension, out of the deep field,
Rolling a sonorous rumble into the hyaline,
Resonating over the eternal furtherance of the firmament.
Through prodigious transmutations of mass and energy,
Tracing the lazy loops of infinity across yawning astral chasms,
Past the spiral pinwheel filaments of galaxy tails,
Clustered on the surface of mammoth space bubbles,
Over celestial tracts, through billowing nebulae,
Negotiating the precarious physics of half-formed solar systems,
With moon-buds burgeoning around planetary partners.
It sings the memories of conflagrations and calamities,
Of suns swelling into red giants, incinerating captive planets,
Of dying stars that convulse and vent their rage,
And of neutron stars imploding with atom-crushing gravity.
It carries the echoes of cataclysmic blasts from supernovae,
Cracking through the numbing dumbness of space,
Raging with outrageous violence, guttering out into the vast benign.
It comes from regions fifteen billion light years distant,
Barreling out of the copious cauldron of creation,
Murmuring a mellifluous metaphor of the seething universe.
It is the undulating ring and thrum of the celestial banjo,
Tripping over the relentless keynote drone of time.
It is a whisper of forever for those who choose to listen.