On Determinism. Poem by Daniel Y.

I used to know a thing or two, back when things were simple.
I used to know a thing at all, but now the mind is cripple.
We used to stand on solid ground, but now it shifts beneath our feet.
We used to say that cold was here, and now we say it’s heat.

Whoever said that God was simple, whoever said that God was nice?
Now we’re haunted by the vision: God doesn’t play with dice.
Chasing ghosts of science present, chase-ed by the ghosts of past,
looking for the ghost of future, we will ever, never grasp.

So many things I’d like to do, a little time to do it.
I cannot say that I don’t try, I’m just not sticking to it.
So many things I’d like to learn, a little time to try,
Why do we not pursue these things we seek,
until we have to die?