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Poem
A window of opportunity, arose on planet earth,
Reality is revealed, human intelligence gives birth,
Our mind opens possibilities, but questions coincide,
Trying to find answers, demise we might just avoid.

We search on a grand scale, yet also the minute,
Build machines to crunch numbers, do you compute,
Our weapons are terrifying, emulating the sun,
Split atoms by fission, then in fusion become one. 

Most powerful race, known universe has ever seen,
Cannot be stopped replicating our own dreams,
Fairytales and fantasy, are no longer out of reach,
Genius; the ability to move mountains, not a niche. 

Ok stop throwing bouquets, this all comes at a cost,
My poem’s allegory, it’s about truth more than loss,
I always try bring balance, but afraid not this time,
We have redeeming qualities, some actually sublime. 

Our technology’s incredible, everything being said,
In the near future, we’ll be cloning off our dead,
I mean can’t you see, sky was never set as a limit,
Cosmos; is our playground, not the overhead zenith.

Show me one country, devoid of all corruption,
Our human nature, causes hell and destruction,
Without these innate traits, where would we be,
I’ll give it to you straight, still swinging from trees. 

We are what we are, there’s simply no other way,
Call me controversial, for this picture I portray,
The device your looking at, that thing with a chip,
Don’t be so naive, it was harvested by the whip. 

Sitting on our sofas, musing rainbows and clouds, 
Whilst this pretty world, is built behind a shroud,
Not here condemning you, condoning to be exact,
You earned the privilege, I’m simply stating facts. 

So like it or not, existentially we’re all complicit,
Don’t care who you are, or what emotions I elicit,
Unless in a cave, living off lichen and insects,
Yabba Dabba Do! Mr Flintstone, pay my respects.  

By
David Kavanagh.
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