We tend to think of inventions
As solid, malleable objects
That are brought forth
Through the cunning, sweat and impeccable timing
Of their creators
In truth, inventions are something
Much more ethereal
They are bridges between different types
Of knowledge and awareness.
They build on what has come before
And hopefully anticipate
What has yet to occur.
For many years, we have relied
On the measurable rubric
Of science to supply us
With our inventions
But the observable universe
Can only do so much
The literary prodigy Mary Shelley,
Who wrote what many consider a gothic masterpiece
At the tender age of 19 had this to say
“Invention, it must be humbly admitted,
Does not consist in creating
Out of a void, but out of chaos.”
Would that we all had that poignant understanding
Each time we settle down to communicate a thought
A fact or an emotion.
The young author of the exquisitely sublime story of a monster and its creator knew of what she spoke. Long regarded as one of modern literature’s first horror stories, Frankenstein is, in fact, a tale of what it means to be a woman in a man’s world.
If there is no cure, we all have the disease,