Scalpel in hand, the surgeon presumes
To exact from the body of human Reality
Only those parts she likes the best
As if Unity and Goodwill and Pleasantness
Might be of some use, resected and laid out
In a stainless steel dish.
The genius of it all―
She thinks―
Lies in forgoing the difficult organs―
In skipping over Knowledge and Wisdom―
In ignoring Prudence and Conviction―
In working around Obedience and Endurance
And foregoing that lifelong battle
For Truth and Justice without which
The righteous would not be who they are.
Yes, she will cut straight to the afterglow―
She thinks―
Of Unity and Good Will and Positivity,
Which experiences never last for those unwilling
To learn the whole body of Reality.
Even so, she inspires those behind
The glass of the observation deck,
Narrating how these three organs
She is harvesting will change the world,
If only they are given a fair chance,
And set out where they may be
Clearly seen and examined by all.
And they applaud not only her skill,
But her great vision for all this,
And count themselves fortunate
To sit before the copious font of emptiness
She has learned to be for them.
And it all sounds so good to them so far.
And though some will see in time,
Most of them will never figure out
The problem with what she is doing.
