A Journal for Western Man-- Issue IX
G. Stolyarov II
I shall expend no overworn convention.
My pen shall yearn for grander quests tonight.
Away shall fade the charlatan�s pretension.
Pseudo-humility shall vanish from my sight!
Tonight no specters haunt my forthright vision,
No tattered legends weigh upon by brow.
A sole conception surges with precision,
Proclaiming greatness, here and now.
These days the sunlight�s seldom present,
Beneath fluffed covers fields have decomposed,
But crops shan�t rot, for the enlightened peasant
Maintains them in a greenhouse, lush and closed.
Rivers are still, and fish are trembling,
But transportation flows without delay,
In factories are workers goods assembling,
Which airplanes carry in a fraction of a day.
Bears� caves are frozen and their owners hibernating,
A barren blanket shrouds them all in murk.
But men are not themselves before the cold prostrating.
In air-conditioned offices they work.
The forests darken as a blizzard�s brewing,
No plant nor beast the chaos can evade.
But in great towers bulbs are light renewing,
Long as men think, their radiance shan�t fade.
Some places yonder languish, blighted,
Sadistic Wilderness shouts, �All shall wane!�
But man is by his reasoned plight delighted.
Demolishing the foe, he claims a new domain.
�I shall not sacrifice nor grovel,
Resign myself to no foul fate.
I shall inhabit skyscraper, not hovel,
When nature shudders, I� shall celebrate!�
�I�ll bask in reverence for heroes� aspiration,
No God I worship, but I am divine.
The cosmos� wealth shall be my satiation.
Harness and beautify shall I what�s mine.�
�And those beside me, comrades in my mission,
I shall endow with fruits of my design.
Away, then, with submissive superstition!
'Tis Reason that allows us now to dine!�
Each bite of nourishment by purposed plight provided,
I shall not turn the other cheek upon this day.
Whim-riddled overlords my fate shan�t have decided,
�Tis time for Man-worship to have its say.
Nature will laugh, no longer by blight tarnished,
And on its outskirts human outposts shall arise,
May Man�s meals ever with esteem be garnished,
And may one Christmas be the Universe His prize.