And,
so it may be,
a terrifying birth
shall write the end
in a molecular shadow.
I want the cold fantasy of autumn
to cool my fear.
We are children
doing the bidding of the abyss.
We are peeling apart the pages
of ultimate dimensions,
by nibbling on the wires
of neuronal conflagration.
We should be subdued
by the immensity of our poetry.
By the sound of crying.
The intelligence in our souls
that defies its logic.
The universe is fragile in our hands.
We ignore the lattice we are building.
The weapon of our computers,
the artistic power of our electricity.
We are species inside species.
Domino games touching the edge of being.
The crazy man
holding up the earth
afraid he will drop creation
and see it shatter.
At Trinity some said,
we may set the world on fire,
but they exploded Frankenstein anyway.
We are terrifying poets,
and we are just beginning.