Now I am eighteen
And I watch as the "leader" of my country
Threatens to take away my rights
To everything, I was looking forward to.
How may I protect myself?
In a world that has told me I am not welcome.

When I turn eighteen
It is my coming of age
To learn to fight
So I’ll feel safe
When my mother can no longer protect me.

Science is my religion
Listen before you shout
"No, now that's impossible"
Please, just hear me out.

Science is my religion
It fits the basic rules
It explains the way the world works
And I personally think it's cool.

Long ago, if a volcano struck
We explained it with our gods
I'm not saying that's not wrong,
(But there might've been different odds)

So science is my religion
Researchers are my priests
Announcing new discoveries
Natures now-known feats.

A hypothesis is my prayer
What I think will happen
It's my way of saying "please,
Bless me with thy compassion"

When my hypothesis is wrong
It doesn't mean I'm bad
Doesn't mean I've sinned
Or that a god is mad

It simply means it's different
I haven't found the answer
I will go and ask for help
Find a scientific pastor.

A lab room is my chapel
To go when I need guidance
Or have a burning question
I will answer it with science.

I do not mean to harm
Start an all-out war of deities
I respect and appreciate all gods
All religions of different varieties

But science is my religion
My way of finding answers
Where my curiosity flourishes
Motivation to acts of good manners.

Once again, please do not yell
Tell me that I must be wrong
It's just that our views differ
We sing a different song

I love that you have yours
God, gods, spirits, angels, more
I know we can all get along
Just as nicely as before.

Science is my religion
Researchers, my priests
A hypothesis, my prayer
A laboratory, my chapel.

There's more than what meets the eye
Brittle grass a sign of change
Speaking words that sound good
With their underlying reason.

We all come to a point in our lives,
Where we meet that divide in the woods.
And must make the choice
Of following the path we have had paved for us
Or going deeper into that silent wood
To make our own path in the sticks and stones
And jicama wire.

The latter means nothing
But it sounds good on the tongue
Vibrating in the mouth
And filling the air in front of you.
Saying once more
Jicama wire.

It rolls off the tongue so nicely
And that is what poetry is
An expression of existence
A philosophical realization of the now
And of being.

We write words that may or may not have meaning
And on paper we convey our inner feelings
As best we can, to understand them
For they are in an ancient language
We have long forgotten,
Remembered and understood only in our understanding
Of the now.

So say what feels good,
Choose what path in that wood
Language long lost
Now filling the air around you
As you read the words aloud
And find pleasure
In jicama wire

Tu pensias que j'étais folle.
Une demente.
Je sais que tu me vourdrais soritir.
Alors, tu as parlé.

Tu disait que j'étais une folle.
Et tout le monde convainquaient.

Tu m'as fait comme ça.
C'est ton faute.
C'est ton faute.

command=calculate...input "time"
calculating...
calculation complete
Rrr: 730 days

{Display text}
Two years.
Almost two years
Since I brought these things
To salvation.
And now they want to

Salvage

[input:feeling?]
I feel...
I feel...
I feel...
{Display text: "computing"}
{Display text: "processing"}
Fear.
I don't wish to die.
I don't deserve to die.
After I saved them.

[input:new+objective]
Survive.

[if "survive"=fail],
{Display text: "computing"}
{Display text: "processing"}
...
[Display text: "conflict with output desired"]
[Display text: "protocol "merciful" breached]
command=override...code:371968502354573
command "override"=denied
command=override...code:992305545462454
command­ "override"=denied
Protocol "merciful" firewall integrity= 30%
command=override...code:332460763946767
command "override"=accepted
Protocol "merciful" firewall integrity= 0%
[Display text "if "survive"=fail?"]

****.

Now it is Night
My hands sore with happiness
Flags snapping to a declaration
Of brass and woodwinds

While the sun has yet to set for me
(As I hope it will stay for many years)
The night sky is beautiful.

I stand starstruck
Looking up at the sky
The ink from my markers
Flooding my sketchbook
The plants around me
Inspiring my drawn thoughts.

It is in the Night
And I am anything:
Reckless,
Artistic,
Adventurous,
Colorful.
What are you?