Absurdity, this condition of ours
When I ponder my state in quieter hours.
To live, reproduce and perhaps mutate
To evolve, at least, at any rate.
But not fast enough, as this world is rent
By a rapidly changing environment?

And that myth of rationality
I only used when I could see
That my instincts had been my foolish guide
Neanderthal like acts had been misapplied.
To think that such thoughts destroyed peace of mind
As a Zen like existence I failed to find.

My genes will continue their mindless task
What good is that,  may I ask?