Ten tall thin crosses on the west wall
As a building of worship, it's unmistakable,
So too the nature of its god.
Its architecture is a marriage of function and form.
Elder and bracken thrive on outer walls.
Gulls build nests in control panels.
Our congregation numbers the gulls, the black-backs and ghosts who make today possible
And who raised their voices in song.
The lighthouse keeper, the swaying valerian...
Enough pieties. Who will take the service?
'I will', says The Physicist
'I speak only in equations as they have no correlations in the sphere of politics
Yet they alter the world they inhabit.
Physicists have long flattered themselves thus, I see you continue the tradition.
We are ready to bring in the bomb to complete its trajectory.
WE-177A - for this is the missile's name
Song of the bomb
The drifting song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the wren
The devil-bird's song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the spores
The drifting song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the hag
The sea coal song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the bomb
The arming song
The firing song
The song of the bomb