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4 |
Sonnet 086/ Oppenheimer in Mourning
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By: Jackh
(School of Mathematics)
Competition Year: 2014 Votes (4) | Comments (0) |
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Physica sacred as colours be flawed,
On journey to solve man's eternal rifts
To find true matter for grievous reward.
Devils deceived, in love with mine present
I thought it my own when logic is thine,
Blinded pure light, devotion so fervent
I lost sight of reason and death became mine,
Cascades of loss, instantaneous fire
Why burn bodies black, new shade of my blood?
How could dear hands split raw atoms desire
for love, creating deformity's flood.
Alas, to feel wise, loss hath become me
Devil instead, is not death's conscience free?
