CERN

In his subterranean hideout
he senses truth,
far from impurity,
closer to the Earth's hot belly.
Miles of tunnel looped so loosely
it loses sense of curve
might squeeze out the answers
haughty pillared sages
sought close to God.

Stirring this frenziedly
sheds all intention.
What will happen to me?
he wonders, lost amid strip lights
and metal walls masking rock.
He knows there's a story here
but not for his pen. The blankest page
you can ever hold up
is a mirror.