In The Book of Humanity
Chapters are named for those Great Moments
When a universal Truth dies
And it’s fearsome Child
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.
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.