Whoever wrote the verse on Shakespeare’s tomb
May prove prophetic far beyond his ken:
For that which was an all-reversing womb
Might be in turn reversed by future men.
Then blest indeed the man who’d spare the stones
From hell-bent cloners bound to seek a way,
Despite the curse, to move what once were bones
And resurrect from dust Will’s DNA.
The irony, of course, would not be missed
By folk that to their souls were not yet blind:
Since the Bard’s works contain a timeless list
Of archetypal codes within the mind.
If these those steely scientists would read,
They’d find the buried treasure humans need.
Jerusalem
24 January 2005