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Science and scientists and death
Scientists build sleek machines that fly and dig and race across the dawning hills lit by internal fires.
Scientists weigh and measure and quantify the world and it's innumerable parts with instruments of shining steel.
Scientists explore every avenue of Creation and press the bounds of knowlege to limits God did not know it possessed.
Scientists build cities of glass and iron and concrete stacked, riveted and arranged in impossible feats of balance.
Scientists inhabit those cities whose streets overflow with shit and hatred; poverty is the mark of these dire realms.
Millions of years of evolution have brought us to this frightening reality and scientists give it form and function.
Science is merely boys playing behind the barn, playing with death.
© W.G. Myers
Scientists weigh and measure and quantify the world and it's innumerable parts with instruments of shining steel.
Scientists explore every avenue of Creation and press the bounds of knowlege to limits God did not know it possessed.
Scientists build cities of glass and iron and concrete stacked, riveted and arranged in impossible feats of balance.
Scientists inhabit those cities whose streets overflow with shit and hatred; poverty is the mark of these dire realms.
Millions of years of evolution have brought us to this frightening reality and scientists give it form and function.
Science is merely boys playing behind the barn, playing with death.
© W.G. Myers
