There survives in each, and every one
a tiny reptile brain,
that lived a cold and loveless life
upon an ancient plain,
perfecting through the ages
a simple tryptic rule – friend or food or foe.
From time to time its voice is heard,
ancient and primeval
reducing life’s morality to personal survival –
to life instead of honor.
It does not think or love or hate
has no sense of value
beyond the logic of the swamp.
What’s not the same, or edible,
gets the only label left.
“Nature, Mr. Alcott, is what we were put upon this earth to rise above” Katherine Hepburn in “African Queen”