This is the work of God, believe the one
He sent. The work of science, believe the facts,
Those slippery things we learned in high school texts.
Weapon-hard they shatter old illusions,
But not content with victory’s easy wins,
Fight on like immune systems run amok.
Assuming airs of godliness they suck
The air of ecstasy from buoyant lungs.
They bludgeon opponents of common sense
And proponents too. They must retire the field
Before the regent Charity, and yield
At last to a gentle, more serene presence
When everything and all things under Him
Obey the One who chastens even them.
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