Or
Poets have long been entranced by awe, that fleeting shiver of wonder you might feel while gazing at an endlessly starry sky or the geometry of a perfect snowflake
This did not require trekking to mountaintops or witnessing eclipses. Simply pausing to admire the intricacy of the veins of a leaf or being astonished by the scale of the universe after listening to a science podcast
How my heart sings 