A.C. Moore Sonnet 4: Singularity

The first infinity. Compressed zeros,
A point of mass finely pressed in the dark.
Between stars and milk spilt in the cosmos,
God’s toolbox works gravities endless lark.

There it is, beyond that far horizon,
The enthroned singularity, hidden.
In the shredded matter, quarks and bosons,
A force, by which even light is ridden.

Hidden. Indeed. We see only partly
Via math, not eyes, spread on sheets and screens.
How can I believe in that which hardly
Is known by primate minds, which mostly scream:

Might is Right! Well, eternal truth endures;
Even when eternal darkness obscures.