Once upon a time

     in a land far away,

Magic ebbed and flowed,

     leaking out, waning grey.

Rings, once forged to rule,

     were consumed and destroyed;

Evil empires fell,

     weapons blunt, null and void.

 

If only this were such a place.

If only our swords turned to rust.

Instead, our makers seem to chase

The chance to turn us into dust.

Our atom blades with latent fire

Spew forth from factories unchained.

Our djinni lamps to sate desire

Are rubbed almost before they're trained.

 

We must, together, do our best

To see that wisdom conquers all,

To show that we can pass the test

To save ourselves a tragic fall.

Eucatastrophe!

     Past a skipped precipice

Better angels write

     of untold faerie bliss.

 

(If you liked this, you might also enjoy my previous poem, Creepy Crawlies. You might also enjoy Fire and Ice by Robert Frost. Credit to this Twitter thread by Anders Sandberg for prompting me to write this.)

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