To whom we often plead, mischievous Gods!
These monuments of truth leave myth behind;
We've learned the measure of your dunciad rods;
And tiny is the world that you've designed.
From where our wings would wave, your chains rappel
That Stars themselves should falter in compare
To Us; bright brilliant motes of life impelled
To a billion galaxies and everywhere.
Throughout the unknown hurricane of light
You try beneath some dullard's cloak of dust,
A sightless muse to grovel in the night,
But better than ye Gods are We! We Must!
For in the cosmic storm you'd seek Man's end;
The Fire in the stars is Ours to tend.
-July 4,2006
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem