It was all so beautiful.
Mathematics could dissect reality itself,
Complex, but simply balanced,
A logan rock moved by a touch,
and through these mysteries
we came to understand
the energy constrained within a grain of sand.
Three planes, one flash
One whole town gone to dust.
Nothing except a few skeletal lines
Some shadow where a man had been.
Silence, apart from screams.
For some, that was success.
And this is how it stays. We live
under the sword of Damocles
peace dangling by a hair,
our fallibility denied.
We live beneath a constant threat,
in wilful ignorance of death.
As if the sheer perfection of the truth
could purge the politicians' faults.
As if the discipline of science
that showed them to unlock the door
had somehow spread itself
into the corrupted soul and mind
of those whose stock in trade is lies.