From "Aniara", Harry Martinson (science fiction and poetry)

We're slowly coming to suspect that the space

we're traveling in is of a different sort

from what we thought whenever that word "space"

was decked out by our fantasies on Earth.

We're coming to suspect now that our drift

is even deeper then we first believed,

that knowledge is a blue naiveté

which with a measured quantity of insight

imagined that the Mystery has structure.

We now suspect that what we claim is space

and glassy clarity around Aniara’s hull

is spirit, everlasting and impalpable,

that we have strayed in spiritual seas.