Classic Poem

The world, we now hear,
is all bits and pieces
that somehow cohere
(or only appear to),
on scales at once cosmic,
subatomic, and common
(some subsubs still to be sung),
all, all bundled up,
indubitably one,
each piece in its groove,
each string in its skein,
and proved on all tiers,
all bits fitted together,
without fuss or pain,
on one common tether
in synchronous stasis or flux
as scopes (tele or micro)
and colliders suggest.
The proof? That's what we crave,
a thesis that's proved
to the commonsense gang
and to physicists all,
the pro and con stringers,
met as bellringers
sweetly united, at last,
in one final big bang,
an astrophysical blast.