R.I.P. Sundance
Category Archives: The Evidentialism Files
Every Cell A Psalm
If people truly knew the miracle of science,
they’d build a different kind of altar.
Not of gospel, gold or greed.
But sand, sun and stardust.
They’d gather where the tide pools teach
the patient art of adaptation,
where tide and time have carved cathedrals
from nothing but persistence.
They’d bow before the ancient light
that traveled billions of years to reach
their upturned faces, carrying stories
of worlds that died before Earth dreamed.
Their hymns would be the hum of atoms,
the secrets that electrons share
as they leap between their shells.
They’d celebrate the sacred chemistry
that turns sunlight into sugar,
sugar into thought, thought into love.
We are the universe learning
to marvel at itself.
And in their reverence for what is,
rather than what might be,
they’d find infinity
in the endless depth of now.
Tin Pulpit
Fawn not upon the mighty.
Tremble not upon hollow fury.
Stand instead in the quiet field,
where wind bends grass
and crows argue from fenceposts.
The world makes its own weight,
but your breath is yours.
Walk with that knowledge.
Carry no borrowed fear.
Bow only to the earth
that feeds you,
and to the hand
that loves you still.
Let the dogs race ahead,
snouts full of scent,
tails carving the air.
Let the squirrel chatter
from its tin roof pulpit.
You owe no reply.
Your task is simpler:
to rise with the day,
to speak clear,
to leave behind
nothing that will shame the dust.
