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The Brain Merchants

The Brain Merchants

Come over here and take a look, they said.
This huge retentive organ in your head
Is a machine. The Mind and Soul are dead,
Long past their sell-by date. Instead
We celebrate the era of The Brain,
Which, we can now assure you, will not wane.
You’re still a moral agent, don’t complain –
There are some bits we cannot quite explain
Such as the way obsession comes and goes,
The way creative inspiration flows,
The use of reason, all that instinct knows,
What purpose in the meanest flower that blows...
Meanwhile, just watch yourself light up on screen –
Red, blue and yellow, orange, purple, green,
Each little sparking neuron clearly seen,
A play of rainbow colours, bright and clean.
All of these flashing lights are down to you.
Yes, all of these little lights show what you do.
It seems like magic but it’s really true.
Come on, join in, it’s science and it’s new!
What is the point, you turn to me and ask,
As if removing a tight stifling mask.
Well, to explain would be a harder task:
Let’s be content with labelling, and bask
In all the certainties that we can find,
Learn to apply these now, forget the grind
Of working out what drives the human mind
In its long search for all that's good and kind.
We are intelligent; no longer blind.

The Brain Merchants
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