Nature is no longer a mother
to our kind, but a sister.
In the epochs past, we passed
through turgid darkness, camels through
the needle's eye— against all odds,
We became gods. We dug up the earth
and in our palms we felt the winds of change
to come, so we kept digging
and digging and digging
until the magic was gone.
And you know how Nature is,
how she feels about vacuums,
so we made our own magic, planted metal
in the ground until it sprouted wings and
bloomed among the stars...
Nature's whims no longer phase us;
she whispers her vissicitudes in our ear.
The rain no longer breaks us. It's synthesized
with the chemicals that made us.
We foretell the future weeks and months
ahead, and though Nature loves her mysteries,
The magic is ours to consume.