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In The Book of Humanity

Chapters are named for those Great Moments

When a universal Truth dies

And it’s fearsome Child

Is born:




Clay tablets, papyrus, paper



And all the rest.

It’s clear to read and see

What is written there

In the pages of the past.

Yet we live only in the now,


In the blind present.

Now, when it seems, truth is more fecund, and short lived,

Moving at the speed of light,

It’s progeny disrespectful, rapacious,

Unrestrained by reflection, or deliberate civil debate,

Its disguises deceptively frivolous:

Twitter, Facebook, Wiki;

We are powerless.

Our world is destroyed and reinvented.

We fear.

And yet the pages from the past make clear

It’s all happened before.

Many times before

And humanity is still here.

As when Gutenberg’s toy destroyed

A Holy Alliance of Gods and Kings:

Then, as now, the powerful and wise claimed

That cheap, uncontrolled, imprecise communication

Among the unschooled or unwashed

Threatens the future of civilization,

When it only threatens the future

of  the past.


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