Science Is A Poor Thing…

[MIRIAM JACOB]

Science Is A Poor Thing…


Here on the hill
The brown earth ripples towards the Mersey,
The green shoots strain towards the light;
Science feeds them with fertilizer,
Guards their growth with pesticides,
Upsets the scales of nature,
And the farmer says, “I grew the corn!”
Man provides the conditions but-
The Word spoke to the first brown seed
And called it into life.
For science is a poor thing,
Compared to the Mystery of God.

Here on the hill,
The lights cut through the blue velvet hills of Wales
And Science has drawn down the power
From the lightening flash and tamed it,
Sent it humming through the wires, unseen, invisible,
Like the wind, we see what it can do,
Man provides the conditions but-
The Word spoke and that power showed its presence
By drawing lurid flashes across the dawning skies,
For science is a poor thing,
Compared to the Mystery of God.

Here on the hill,
The bark of a lone dog echoes in the damp and darkening air,
Bred selectively by man and for his use,
Cloned and contrived, the lower creation
Groans, diseased, distorted
And man reaps the death that’s visited on
The crowded pens; thrice fattened livestock
Bred to feed the greedy west
Whilst half the world is starving.
Man provides the conditions but
The Word spoke to the random cells and called them into order,
Set them in Eden and forbade the knowledge of the tree
Wherein corruption lay.
And disobedient man thought he knew better.
Banished from the Garden and too blind
To see the devastation he has caused
For science is a poor thing,
And less than nothing
Compared to the Mystery of God.




PAULINE
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED