Poetry in Motion

Poetry in Motion: Darwin’s Theory of Evolution

Here’s another old poem of mine. My Biogeography class actually talked quite a lot about religious apologetics in the context of the European discovery of the New World in lecture; while my views have evolved (no pun intended) and matured a bit since this, partly because of discussions with the (religious) roommate, I think this subject will continue to fascinate me. 

Skeptics are supposed to be

Quite nasty generally,

And to be disillusioned—

To be free of illusion—

A rather sorry state of affairs,

Like an affair, and most states.

But illusion is not the same as magic,

As most illusionists will tell you.

And personally speaking,

The idea that from chaos,

For the eugenicists were wrong,

And evolution is not a rung-ladder,

Nor a hierarchy,

Rather, merely a process,

Of which fortune and favor
Vary with the tides,

So that what is favored one generation

Could spell certain doom the next,

So the fittest that survive

Are only fortunate, not superior,

For the unfit might be fitter

In another time,

Nothing truly more or less,

Only fortunate or unfortunate,

From all that—

Over the course of

Generations, centuries, millennia—

Left to pure chance and chaos and cruelty,

We get, if not better,

More naturally suited

And able to exist in the world

From birth, from the

Sufferings of our ancestors—

I find that more satisfying spiritually

Than any puckish creator

Or self-aggrandizing purpose.

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