July 2001 Passage of the Month

From Promethea, No. 12 by Alan Moore:

"Indeed in blithe, uncaring bliss
The Fool steps o'er a precipice
As if he trusts the winds, so chill
To bear him wheresoe'er they will

Thus any venture is begun,
This reckless step from nought to one
It's magic's foremost trick, I guess
How something comes from nothingness

Like rabbits from an empty hat
Or thoughts from nowhere, just like that!
From whence were space and time deployed,
If not this empty quantum void?

Was matter pushed, or did it fall,
To being out of naught-at-all?
What magic shaped the way things fell?
The Fool smiles, knows, but does not tell."

Image © Lang of Switzerland (Le Tarot de Belmont)