Dark matter is not profound, not a morbid place.
It's something between the light, occupying outer space.
Although we cannot see it, we do suspect it's there.
The glue that holds the Universe in line, between the splitted hair.
Without it, the galaxies would fly apart, their stars all asunder.
With it, galaxies rotate in place, a glory to the wonder.
As wondrous as dark matter is, it does present a puzzle.
For though we've searched high and low, we can't cozy up and nuzzle.
To something that may not be there, thinner than thin air.
A nebulous dark nothing from nowhere.
Have we seen a ghost, or evidence of a holy host?
That keeps us looking, vigilant at our post?
Deep in the Earth, in a place without mirth, and the stars never shine.
We place crystal catchers with electron sensors, in a mine.
And hope to catch one, two, or three, a multitude of nebulae.
So many yet so few; when will we have the eyes to see?
The dark within the dark, then dark matter will truly be.
Copyright 2001 © Ronald W. Hull