The greatest disaster of the mind
comes not with the death of the body,
but when one forgets to be human.
Some would argue that only hard, rational, thought
defines and distinguishes us from the animals,
that this mortal coil we call a body only hides us from
becoming the machines we ought to be.
Automotons for Science,
Discovery.
Advancement.
we trudge along, analyzing and dehumanizing,
so that there are no confounding variables.
Man is just a confounding variable.
Be like machines, be as machines, be machines.
Limit humanity,
create perfection.
We are not perfect, no one could say otherwise.
The truth is:
Imperfection is Perfect
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem