I was in the Beginning ...

- A cosmogonic narrative in the form of poetic prose, inspired for the content of scientific cosmology, the standard model

- Written for the "Head in the Stars" , a meeting between astrophysicists and Poets, which I organized with and for the review table, in Nice at Fnac and Astrorama , in collaboration with Jean-Louis Heudier

- Published in the Journal table No. 49, and in Italian in: La Parola Abitata, laboratorio Letterario No. 4, translated by Marco Longo

Photo CERN heavy ion

Extract: A Listening , cantata for a poetry of science, ed. Papers Garlaban

I WAS IN THE BEGINNING ...

"A memory haunts me, memories of myself that always slips away. As it is hot, too hot! Lack of presence. Lack. Failing to know me, I scan the eyes on me. Mirror opposite? Dream of identity? Those who seek me, want to dismember my body and do not know recognize me. They say I was born. But who knows? Yesterday I had this dream. Bubble in the foam. But they say I am. And my dream? If I am, I am one - and it needs the other, where to go! I always knew, my closest ally is the great beyond. Artifact of dream?

Found my birth certificate. I was already old in a million years. But I was born no one knows. It is assumed in poverty and in the night time. What sign of ignorance! Never appeared more dazzling glow, although today it is called "fossil", its rays would prove my need to grow and dwell. I mean look at me!

My multi-dimensional, coiled or not, depending on the angle of view. Four, seven, eleven, surfacing, not least in their minds, but in my belly, my heart, in my desire? Space and time, and misty memories. Spacetime, and magnificent dream. How many mirrors in the light of consciousness? Do I have a center, a direction? Am I laminate? How to see, see me in my opaqueness-blindness?

Some argue that once cooled slightly, when my primary particles have disintegrated, then I would have chosen rather to be matter qu'antimatière. Any guarded neutrality, failing memory, tell me, after the radiation, I had the choice? Since then, I hang in the shadows "anti-" everything, that I dare not look in my fear to touch. However, in light of my dream vision cleared sometimes, the couple is intact. Oh! I like the symmetry. Then this vital need, essential, to discreetly break!

On the stage of my theater my strength diffracted fanning the flames of existence. During a game of metamorphosis, when the A, behind the mask, forget his name, his four puppets suddenly bring into play their own worlds. Some of their creations are confined, as it seems, in the shade, while others, more ardent love to be watching. Then the larger, generous living and dead, scatter joyfully singing their color.

When the pleasure of stretch, through the presence-absence, makes me hot, terribly, what can I do this if the heat dissipate, dissipate to the point where I was numb with cold! Suddenly, locally, there is a condensed, warms and shines, the sun is born! I'm happy. It is true, my fountain of youth, I take the uniform. But over here, and there an island universe, what a pleasure for otherness banging in my chest!

And of all times, places me in shape creation: the universe explosive, the feverish heart of stars, the cold space between stars, the warmth of the ocean first. Everywhere traces of my power. It is terrifying! Always ... to bring out new properties. Birth junction.

My thousand levels of reality, as in a ball of Masters, overlap, intertwine, and contain each other. Be sufficient in themselves? Probably. But they, those who stalk me in the mirror, they invent rules of play and looking for controller, the unique formula, the latest legislation. Exhausted their sarabande, now it escapes me: that was indeed the first, or the existing law, with nothing to dictate? Whatever, as long as this marvel to flourish, the dance of the sheaf of Pion.

As my strength, I spread my mile time. Nothing, nowhere, happens at the same time. Except perhaps behind the silvering of the mirror. Then who knows, everything is combined and is part of the memory-short of oblivion.

I also heard that my worlds have crossed their genesis to levels specified time. Time Zero, however, I can not kiss him that night, in this dream, this recurring dream where light is born from the shadows. Similarly me pursuing this tune, the song where the gravity bends space and time. Resonates in my mind a pas de deux. The negative slope of a hyperbola, open, co-starred with a sphere that encloses my becoming frightening.

How do I know? They surely not by whose eyes, day and night, I searched like a common way. Because their claims are lies in a halo of my appearances. But my being - given there - inside?

And anxiety. Disturbing their questions! Where are my boundaries? What is my limit? My density? How was this initial condition, mine, my buried in oblivion? Some provide the: my survival depends on it. Or is it theirs?

In the dark of unknowing, the sentinel of my memory defend their secret invisible, black, some mass is missing, what has happened?

The guardian of the decision is intended ghost, or angel, the three faces. Them, they call Neutrino. Lepton its charge - I listen to their clamor - is it broken? Everything depends on it. All. According to my freedoms would be very different. Dwell forever, exhale space-times without end, or seek new forms of unprecedented dimensions, enjoy, die and be reborn, otherwise? I do not know. The one never knows?

Singular as the idea of my beginning and my end. How these blocks are called gravitating into the pool of their ignorance? Big Bang, Black Hole, Big Crunch. Singular! And that their world would be nothing that a wave function! My sky is harassed every answer questions which gives a hundred thousand other day why and how. Already, shift a little, a little bit, the red of my melody returns to remove the holds of their scaffolding. So they seek, feverishly, saving the strings. As glue and superstructures. In their bag of tricks, trapped surfaces, worm holes, cause and effect reversed, and this Omega running through their madness and that I would raise, Me and Them, without ever stopping, the fact of me watch.

Feeding on bare ideas, dressed in yellow perhaps, they tend to marry the irreconcilable, seeking to force their own minds. Will they, at the auspicious hour, the unexpected link between the vu?, Open their structures to other highly, and think the unthinkable, that beyond the in-this side?

During this time I wrap myself in this life force as I seek to remember. Its movements, the constant movement of light arrows, till in me their own fields. By the time a huge wave takes me. Everything seems to tremble. Waiting. My phases of sleep and waking, fulguration, a crisis of growth, transition, all that I live and dress according to their seasons. Sounds that I lost the sense approach, want to bet on hope, embalm me of another force, a very different cohesion. Would there be an end I would have forgotten? I not retroactive to advance transparent to the future. In Memory of sleep, mine or any other?, Tolls a Tachyon unknown. I aspire to that primordial gravity waves and I think the funds in its reality, that the eternal present of a "who knows? "

AMI

The Arc of Einstein in galaxy clusters

a discovery by a team of the Observatoire de Toulouse, led by Bernard Fort;

they are further proof of the theory of General Relativity Einstein

* Photo: CERN: Interaction of heavy ions