On A Vitalist's Deathbed Poem by Daniel Y.

Men of science!
Play with your things
design your instruments
build your rooms and set
the conditions just so.
Hide behind glass windows
and see with mechanical eyes.
My being has escaped your gaze.
Hah! Where am I?
In death your observation fails
your hubris deflates
your existentialism is meaningless.
The spirit slips through,
your clamps and iron concentration.
With brazen smile and song
defy the best efforts of man
for they can only do as much
as they understand
which is so very little.