Poets for Science
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The Inheritance

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Planked and warped willed from the long ago
thrust out inevitable nimble through benighted straits
to rise up
– and wave-cleave all lesser convictions.

THUMP!
Eyes burst awake and we flood the banks
iron clad and sea born to cloistered insula ‘sacra’.
In gaudy triviality they grovel to a false god
with lips of blood-salt and mead we spy their lazy trinkets.

Peddlers of the present to we who sail past the known.
They prattle on risk as we prowl the abyss.
They amble and tinker as we assault their tenebrae.
We shall seize the gold; We shall give it for steel.

To survivors a chance chug of Suttungr
and on spear tip pay the Odin-toll.
As the tide retreats rumours run torrid
of one-eyed church-men with chain-lined habits.

When they come with tithes for mundane toils
with Faust-grins greet them as friends.
Play the priest and bloom in the black.
Dark oak petals pour out past dim purple horizons.

Wir müssen wissen, wir werden wissen.