Key to Mystery ~ Philip Brent Harris
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Would miracles be or seem, by any other name, so grand?
Miraculous, magical, names for what we don’t understand.
Magic, for some speaks evil, dark powers, we can’t define.
Miracles, equally mysterious, argued as proof of the divine.
Minds shut so tightly, some refuse to heed any dissertation;
faith in their own unknown eschews any other explanation.
Our hubris blinds us in ways we cannot quite comprehend,
while we act as if we know everything; it is all just pretend.
Our lives improved constantly, though it makes them worse,
long since we owned our days from the cradle to the hearse.
Ubiquitous and uncaring, new computers are controlling all.
Greatness to which we once aspired, lost while we get small.
Thinking machines, their progeny, their own authors, while
control is less than an illusion; just sit back, relax and smile.
So, blankly we’ll view our tiny lives, our world so vapidly,
wondering what beat us, as our lives turn ever more rapidly.
Dismayed, we grab, grasp, hoping to at least slow it down,
realizing, we gasp, know we will reap what we have sown.
Many still in denial, believing in some unforeseen miracle,
deny the harm we’ve wrought, despite evidence empirical.
Science beyond us, it’s been said, we would think it magic.
Blind faith substituted for the truth, we should find it tragic.
Faith itself is not the demon; it’s confusing faith and reason,.
Turn, turn, turn, for each action, reaction, there’s a season
If what we do, how we think expresses some divine being,
we should wear our shame as stigmata or consider fleeing.
Or stop! Pause, consider what principles all religions share,
do unto others as we would have them do to us seems fair.
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Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength, Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment
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