Save your missiles and your bombs,
Submarines and cruisers;
Next to a virus these heavyweights
Are lumbering losers.
The world will not end with war,
However fancy our arsenal;
Something invisible like a corona
Will be a surer route to hell.
The other virus is of hate,
Of equal puissance;
Between hate and corona,
Our arsenals have little chance.
God makes our nemesis tinier
And untraceable by us,
The more we wallow in control
Of a truant universe.
Then there are the shoals of ice
That melt into our pretty lawn;
Science that serves our greed foremost
Is not science but armageddon.
For every hassle we address,
We generate a dozen more;
Thus profit makes its callous round
From obliging door to obliging door.
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