You thought you held the code of life,
By cutting strands with logic’s knife,
As if each trait, each shade, each part,
Was locked inside a gene-bound chart.
You mapped the twists, the bonds, the base,
Assumed you’d mastered nature’s face.
“Control the gene, control the being,”
A grand illusion you kept seeing.
But what did time and life convey?
Did Mendel’s peas all grow one way?
Did crops respond just to the seed,
Ignoring soil, and care, and need?
From humans’ minds to insect wings,
From plants to cows to kings and kings—
The myth persists in sterile halls:
“Your fate is written in your walls.”
Eugenics wore its shameful crown,
With science twisted upside down.
Green revolutions sprayed and fed,
But left the soil and farmers dead.
Now CRISPR comes with cleaner names,
Still playing old reduction games.
Gene editing, the modern song—
Yet the same old script plays all along.
It echoes caste, and race, and pride,
That who you are, you mustn’t hide—
For birth defines you, sealed and done,
No matter where you walk or run.
But nurture breathes in every cell,
Environment casts its subtle spell.
The climate, culture, care, and pain,
Are all inscribed—not in your chain—
But in the spaces in between,
In things no microscope has seen.
How long will science wear this mask?
How long before we ask and ask—
Not what we can but what we should,
And if we truly understood?
Reduction failed, the signs are clear,
The forest can’t be held by shear.
It’s time to shift, to think anew,
To see the whole, not just the few.
Wake up before the seeds are lost,
Before our dreams get double-crossed.
Wholistic ways, not fractured lore—
That’s the path worth fighting for.
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