Conjured

I do not understand

how the magic works

how this molecule falls for that one,

colliding in an orgasmic explosion,

birthing something new.

But there are witches afoot

in laboratories scribing formulas in strange symbols,

enchantments inked in the grimoire they call science.

They awaken charms,

brew potent elixirs,

cloaked in white, gathered in sterile covens,

murmuring incantations

in a language arcane,

until they summon cures.

True sorcery conjured by study,

by method, by patience.

So while you may call upon

invisible spirits,

I will stay here, enamored of Earth

and all she holds,

blessed by sky and star

and the physical universe

utterly, hopelessly

in love with Science.