Glowing sights,
Stand bare before the curious gaze,
And all is quiet except for a fuzzy whirring,
Hurtling down the barrel, racing electrons chase after the very space before them,
They clatter through the graphite and reality seems to rend apart,
Splitting into probabilistic paths,
Before making up its mind as the cloth is struck,
A glowing image in its wake,
It's flows out from the bright centre in concentric rings of phosphorus green,
And curious eyes gaze wide open at the theory put into practice.