Warriors preach of the heroic and divine,
a penalty must be paid for the crime.
Crying vengeance for that day of infamy,
the faithful sought the trinity.
In the dust of Los Alamos,
appeared a holy ghost.
Was death the destroyer,
the devil his employer.
Little Boy and Fat Man,
bound on their journey to Japan.
Unleash the horror of the mighty mushroom cloud,
upon an unsuspecting city crowd.
To the tune of Manhattan,
cities fall and flatten.
Innocents foot the bill,
our very own Triumph Of The Will.
After the dust and memory settles,
we present folded flags and medals.
We fight for noble causes,
rows and rows of crosses.
Soldiers in their finest suits,
the sound of taps, and final salutes.
The propaganda machine continues turning,
keeping the flames of patriotism burning;
and the battles continue, they never cease,
only those that lie in rest, know peace.
I was inspired to write this from various quotes by the architects of the Manhattan Project.
Richard Feynman, later would go on to become one of the most influential physicists. Winning the Nobel prize.
I returned to civilization shortly after that and went to Cornell to teach, and my first impression was a very strange one. I can’t understand it any more, but I felt very strongly then. I sat in a restaurant in New York, for example, and I looked out at the buildings and I began to think, you know, about how much the radius of the Hiroshima bomb damage was and so forth… How far from here was 34th street?… All those buildings, all smashed — and so on. And I would go along and I would see people building a bridge, or they’d be making a new road, and I thought, they’re crazy, they just don’t understand, they don’tunderstand. Why are they making new things? It’s so useless.
J. Robert Oppenheimer; Director of the laboratory at Los Alamos Manhattan Project.
Were to burst at once into the sky
That would be like the splendour of the Mighty One…
I am become Death,