A Transhumanist Poem

**Note: I’m not a poet. I hardly ever write poetry, and when I do, it’s usually because I’ve stayed up all night. However, this seemed like a very appropriate poem for Less Wrong. Not sure if it’s appropriate as a top-level post. Someone please tell me if not.**


The first man

Who held a stick in rough hands

And drew lines on a cold stone wall

Imagine when the others looked

When they said, I see the antelope

I see it.

Later on their children’s children

Would build temples, and sing songs

To their many-faced gods.

Stone idols, empty staring eyes

Offerings laid on a cold stone altar

And left to rot.

Yet later still there would be steamships

And trains, and numbers to measure the stars

Small suns ignited in the desert

One man’s first step on an airless plain

Now we look backwards

At the ones who came before us

Who lived, and swiftly died.

The first man’s flesh is in all of us now

And for his and his children’s sake

We imagine a world with no more death

And we see ourselves reflected

In the silicon eyes

Of our final creation