Of Human Bondage
Sometimes, the human race acts so advanced,
its possibilities seem without end;
and almost every minute, some new thing
is brought into the world by our mere thought.
And yet, our evolution is not done
(it cannot be, or else that theory’s false);
with each step forward, shadows linger on,
and with their darkness comfort the confused.
The world is how it should be, they proclaim,
and man is the penultimate design;
there is no point in searching out beyond
the shallow pool of knowledge where we wade.
Ah, to be so sure the die is cast;
if only I could be convinced of that.
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