Oh gentle Oppenheimer
What did you wring from your
Bare hands grasping voidly
Were you generous
With what you found there?
A reproof we never ask of you that you
Gave yourself so sternly yet unpunished only
An inventor
Proud in your vision of yourself as
A character in the Bhagavad Gita
"I am become..."
So that your unkindness
Might be acknowledged
Soft rains fall in hell this day and
All the used car salesmen
Frozen solid paving the way
To that gate
Thaw a little and shake as
Cool rain scalds them
In their lacklife pattern
Of mythology my own
The forest patched sparsely and its beauty
Slow eaten away by the man machinations
Like the silver hairs of einstein
Spotted with frost
Simple equations build guilt
Are we thankful for your contribution?
Do we show it with our care?
This one song is for cities
Would it be better that we flooded them
With fishes
If the people there care not for
The warming air
The rising tide
Rises and rises
And they allow themselves
Unnotice
But certainly reproof
As gentle as Oppenheimer
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