Can Evolution Stick the Landing?

On the final approach, there’s no human
Eyes, no human element deciding.
The mechanism must land on its own.

All those millions of years of toolmaking,
Thousands of years of written instructions,
Centuries of engines pushing themselves,

And now culture, the infant colossus,
L’enfant terrible, is leaving the nest,
Or is restless, or has already left.

Human eyes scrutinize, half-terrified,
Their fine-tuned, shambolic mechanism
As it gradually gets away from them,

Away from controlled communications.
On the final approach, there’s no human
Eyes, no human element deciding.