In the beginning, there was wonder.
A spark, a glimmer, a question unasked. Yet, without the method, it would not last. For in the chaos of the unknown, We sought a path, a way to be shown.
The light bulb flickers, casting its glow, A beacon of thought, where ideas flow. Without the method, it would not shine, A mere dream, lost in the sands of time.
The phone in your hand, a marvel of might, Connecting the world, day and night. Yet, without the method, it would be naught, A whisper of hope, never caught.
The medicine that heals, the cure that saves, Born from the method, through trials and waves. Without it, weâd wander, lost in the dark, A ship without compass, missing its mark.
The method is simple, yet profound, A dance of logic, where truth is found. Observe, hypothesize, test, and conclude, A cycle of learning, ever renewed.
So when you hold these wonders near, Remember the path that brought them here. For in the method, we find our way, Turning night into day, come what may.
In the beginning, there was wonder. And with the method, we made it thunder.
