Welcome to the Age of Enlightenment,
Where materialism,
Dictates the standard,
And all else grows from this,
Bedrock as cold and still as stone,
An age where our prey,
Is stored in little boxes,
Until it's time we need them,
Billions of conscious beings,
Battery or factory just send it to my,
Refectory,
As cheaply as you can,
Up and down the land,
Paper laws stand between helping hands,
Common sense,
And the end,
Of many a personal suffering,
Yet with dogged eyes,
They gaze at the distant sky,
And swear by their antiques,
Welcome to the age,
Where religious motivation,
In war,
Is so terrifying,
We leave their babies outside the city walls,
Like imperfect Spartans,
No matter how we see them,
Oh this glorious age,
Where our sense of self,
Our free-will,
And our moral standards,
Are all explained away,
Like fairies in the long grass,
Over summer,
And anyone claiming to disagree,
Is fed with antipsychotics.
Rowan Blair Colver
