When Power Is Discovered

We turn to it, blossoms to sun,
Warned Bateson. The imptree awaits
Wild Merlin, the years of power
And sorrows to follow, the real
Turned faery by fresh sorceries
And thus the wreckage that follows.
In this case the myths are not myth,
But simple shorthand, simple code

For the ordinary sequence
Of humans hoisted by our own
Petard of each discovery.
We are ourselves the trickster gods
Caught in our traps, burned by the fire
We stole from the gods of this world,
Aka, the laws of nature,
Aka, the land of faery.

The sorcerer's the apprentice.
We should remain lost in the woods.
We should stay inside our despair.
But should has no understanding
Of the thrum of natural law.
The narrative's invariant.
We will discover. We will see.
The magic we wield will rule us.