II. The Craftsman's Psalm
"I wrote once
Of facts and figures
I wrote once on space
And time
My mind, my mind
It spurred on millions
My voice changed the
Very shape of time."
The Poet spoke, his pen irate
"What is this story?
No will, no hate?
Why are you among us all
You speak not of sin
Of math, not faults!"
The Craftsman wiped the regret off his thick mustache
And stared at the Poet, his feelings clearly
Stuck
Between Hesitation and Penitence.
"Yes, I dreamed in numbers
Spoke facts and figures
The theories of bigger
Bigger scope than man deserved
A handle on energy and time
How absurd!
For it is inevitable in the end
Whatever those dreaming Craftsmen sod
Mankind only dreams of war and blood
My facts and figures
Became broken backs and charred pillars!
My theories and ideas
My time, my pity
What is Science to man
When he uses it to raze cities?!"
The Poet blinked in newfound horror
At the Craftsman's Psalm:
"You mean to say-"
"Yes, I built the Bomb.
