Technology's Siren Song
A faith so strong shall fall before the end
to gods: the men who shatter wills on truth
and fruitless will their search come to an end
for truth will conquer strength and hope with proof.
A dish once heaped so high with merry fare,
the food of hope, the drink prosperity
the plate has rotted, drenched in myriad cares,
the food grows rancid with nobility.
I'd deign to taste that honeyed summer wine
(that wine that gives what soon shall ruin us)
but time, i fear, has want of taste for wine-
I fear that fact more than the death of trust.
Machines may imitate ...
The sun stabs through the window;
its jealously, a terrific sign for me-
the air is full of her when I awake;
the broadness of the world seems
a quaint question of accompaniment
soon solved in our meeting.
When she's indoors the sun rages
for I have her to myself