Babel

By Andrew R. Duckworth

My parents watched rockets launch
Into space through engineering,
The magic of continued progress.
And then came the shuttles.

I grew up with a Nokia brick
In my pocket, the indestructible kind.
Now, practically the Apollo missions
Behind a tiny glass screen.

We once had a god to guide
To keep us anchored, free of pride.
But the religion of progress
progressed to high heights.

Out with the altar! Out with the pews!
One day, we will regret these views.