The space  between Eternity and loss
Shows in a long wave when someone dies
With inner eye, we see  past the abyss

With human hearts we fear whom we shall miss
Tell ourselves strange stories,even lies
Of gaps  between Eternity and loss

Our education was a mite remiss
The rules are pressed, the truth may well just fly
With inner eye, we see  past the abyss

As the life we had  come down to this,
When love rolled like the tide  in a great sigh
No gap  between Eternity and bliss

My imagination you dismiss
For as a golden horse, you lept so high
The inner eye, will see  past the abyss

So now we stumble on  without  a cry
Yet one day all mankind must say ,Goodbye
What  grace  between Eternity and loss
Shows  us how to cross the great abyss

I dreamed I rowed in a large pea green boat
Accompanied by seventeen cats.
And across the Great Lake,without a mistake
I saw mountains of gentleman’s hats.
I was making no waves in my effort to move,
The cats were discoursing on geometry.
I looked in the mirror fixed onto my boat,
The moon spoke  entrancing Theology.
“I wonder who’ll help me”I thought to myself,
When I saw an entire spectrum of men–
Dirac, Archimedes,Niels Bohr, with their theories.
I got my great inspiration just then.
I need seventeen physicists,that’s one for each cat,
All tied to my boat with a chain.
The force they exert will just compensate
For the magnetic attraction of rain.
Paul Dirac came up, and I looked into his eyes,
They were full of anxiety and pain.
“I am sorry I am unable do what you wish,
But my father never taught me to swim.”
“That is perfectly alright”,I politely replied,
“You can walk on the water instead”
So that’s how my boat and its cargo of cats
Were accompanied back to my bed.
When I awoke the next day,I was filled with dismay.
I saw that Paul Dirac was gone,
With the cats and the boat,of which I just wrote
And I was now completely alone.
I took a quick look,in my old physics book
And there was a photo of Dirac
I stared at his eyes,and I am not telling lies,
He threw me a very strange look.
I caught this strange look,it’s here in my book.
I am saving it for a special event.
When I gather more Data on Relative Quanta,
I’ll understand just what  Paul Dirac meant.

Why is writing an email more difficult  in its etiquette than writing a letter?
For a letter it was always
Dear Mr Digge
Or Dearest Rose.
only varying this with the person and their position in  your life.~
As I wrote recently,it appears beginning an email with “Dear John” is considered wrong.Too formal.Dear no longer means anything much.
As in

Dear Mr X

Your execution has been rescheduled and will now be at 3 p,m Friday
Sorry for any inconvenience.
Yours truly
P.Pilate

Also having a greeting at odds with the ending is always a problem

My  own dearest John
I hate you
Worst wishes ever
Anne

When you meet someone in the street it can be the same.

How are you?
I have got  brain cancer
You’re meant to say, I’m fine
I’m terribly sorry.The chemotherapy has affected my mind
Your hair looks  odd.
You’re not meant to say  that
I’m so sorry.You look great.
Excuse me , the ambulance is waiting
Don’t let me get in the way
But you are  in the way
Always moaning, aren’t you? Look on the bright side.
You are blocking the sun
I can’t help where the sun moves to.
OK.Nice to see you
Mutual
See you later.
See you soon
Cheers,old boy
Cheerio

In this cubicle I sit and read
“How to live inside a little house”
Does it matter  if the heart is dead,
If I  have a new kitchen ,but no spouse?

I see a folding desk and chair beside
Floors of marbled vinyl in deep teal
Yet now inside a cubicle resides
My entire body and my soul revealed.

I used to have a heart when I first wrote
I felt it like a pressure in the chest
But now I have none,see I merely float
And go the way the current thinks is best

I’ve handed in my notice,I am done
A cubicle is not  the place  for fun

I

Town centre 

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/57615/logic-56d23b4c891a9