The proudest of all Nature’s species
Who grovels yet before his gods,
Believing others’ gods are feces
And yet has faith his beats the odds.
Who’s settled all things a priori
And knows he’ll win his Heaven’s glory
By wreaking death on “other” men,
As he’s been trained from his playpen.
And does it with such self-assurance:
A holy warrior till the end
When, raging, he goes round the bend
Because he thinks his life insurance
Is everlasting. This thing, man,
Will end, as well, an also-ran.
Monday, January 24, 2011
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