From the cultural sleep of the Middle Ages,
When intellect was enslaved by faith,
Art and music serviced God,
And literacy was the tool of priests,
![engraved portrait](leo1.jpg)
He midwifed Europe's Reawakening
To reason and humanity,
When princes studied how to govern,
And amateur armies turned professional.
![The Mona Lisa](leo4.jpg)
With insight and imagination
He filled one notebook after another
With visions of our fathers' days:
Medicine and weapons of Korea and Vietnam.
![tanks and war wagons](leo3.jpg)
How many horror-stricken midnights
Did he light a candle and dip a pen,
While bombers dropped napalm in his head?
What gift was his, or what foul curse?
![presumed self-portrait](leo2.jpg)
For all the eternities that we know,
And all the infinities that we grasp,
We master with vast stores of science,
Built bit by bit by giants like him:
![anatomical studies](leo5.jpg)
But he stood empty-handed and alone,
Surrounded by the shattered pillars
Of Greek and Roman learning,
Yet heard the insect buzzing of binary code.
![human proportions](leo6.jpg)
Too little of his work survives:
Some master pieces of line and light,
And those notebooks, best appreciated
By our astonished backward gaze.
![helicopter](leo7.jpg)
He still deserves profound respect
For the newborn age he helped design.
Inspiration is reason's light:
Leonardo's genius banished night.
—Calafia
4/16/2001