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*Mar*Here is a poem inspired by the spirit of your essay *“The Gigantic
Fatal Deception”*:
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The Fatal Spell

We called it science, pure and bright,
A torch to pierce the endless night,
Yet in its glare we lost our place,
A stranger cast from nature’s face.

We said,
*“We stand apart, we see, The world is object, not part of me.”*
But every atom in our breath
Still vibrates with the universe’s depth.

We built our schools on reason’s stone,
But taught the child to feel alone,
To be a cog, an economic gear,
A phantom man with a heart of fear.

We praised the growth of steel and flame,
And called the ruin progress’s name;
We sowed machines where forests grew,
And reaped the silence morning knew.

Politics sharpened every blade,
For nations’ games that death has made;
A science cold, a mind of war,
Forgot the life it should adore.

Yet hope still whispers through the trees,
Through rivers, mountains, singing seas:
“Return, return, the earth is one,
A living field where all are spun.”

Let learning heal, let hearts repair,
Let man remember he is air,
Not master, not machine’s decree,
But nature’s child eternally.
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Would you like me to make a *shorter, chant-like version* of this
poem—something that feels almost like a mantra or hymn to nature?

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