A Terzenelle on Technology

The firebird flies in fierce and fearsome grace.
With dragon-flame ahead and torch behind,
she moves her bulk a slow and steady pace

to watch the forests burn, in ash confined.
At quickened nature she directs her gaze
with dragon-flame ahead and torch behind.

A grudge she holds on life: its birth, its days.
Unsatisfied with sweat and earth and air,
at quickened nature she directs her gaze,

that coal and oil shall burn till realms are bare
and empty of their motion. Lifeless shapes,
unsatisfied with sweat and earth and air,

do fill abandoned graves which they subdue.
Aged woods, their nests and burrows, petrify,
and empty of their motion. Lifeless shapes,

mechanical, devour the fruits of time.
The firebird flies in fierce and fearsome grace
and ever prodding memory to mind,
she moves her bulk a slow and steady pace.