Man, Thou Hast Not Much Time

Man, meagre time hast thou to mend thine ways, And no more than a handful of genes more, To bid thine blinkers bye and open eyes To see, closed shut be thine destiny's door. Thou hast li'le role to play ere curtain's call, Act O dense head, you've had enough of hint, Or get consigned to life's dustbin— extinct, Nor art thou stronger sex nor yet art tall. Beware, from Y to why is but a step— From being a gender fixating male, The race may be running its last tired lap, Nature seems out to drive her last of nail. If not red, the sign is warning orange, Miss it and Nature might seek her revenge. ______________________________________________________ The Y chromosome (the determinant of male sex)made up of 1400 genes earlier has been reduced to only 45 genes (three percent)and is still depleting. In the next five million years it would be defunct as dodo. ______________________________________________________ Sonnets | 01.07.09 |