I know it not

We are a fragile, yet profound thing
If thing could somehow describe us
The clues we leave for each other
Through time, is not a nobility of spirit
Not wholly, but the desire of molecules
To copulate. Did you know we can re-
Program molecules to do as we wish?
I rest my case. There are still many fish
We have not seen. Bugs die out undiscovered
Worlds blink off at a distance. Resistance
Amongst opposing forces glue and unglue
The sole to the shoe or me to you and make
The world go round. Our eyes collect it all
And polarize new configurations. And if there is
Actually, a me and you, then what are we
Looking at? If we can put life into a body:
Couldn’t something else? Do you mean to say
That by encoding organic stuffs into circuits
They might breathe? Is this foreboding?
No. Whatever life crawls from it will wonder
As well. Only, they may know their God
Sci-fi, the future, any such time constraint is
Irrelevant and meaningless. Just look at history
We all know what the Greeks said as if it were
Yesterday. Now our geeks dread such logic and
Make logic gates with the numerals. And fragile?
We are fragile, that is, our collection of ideas
And concepts and self-aware mortality; these
Things crumble and decay but the space,
The distance between the forces remains the same
And whatever name you give to it, death
As well as breath remain the enigma and the
Consciousness of other things, well, it brings
Me to a conclusion. A profound humility
That I possess the ability to know it, yet
I must in the end profess, that I know it not.