They said that it could not be done;
He'd work to no avail.
But still the chemist tried and tried
To pierce death's gloomy veil.

He measured and mixed, fiddled and fixed
With practically pious precision
While a crowd stood outside, vicious and snide
Shouting out words with derision.

"So you want to play God," they spat at the man,
"By trying your hand at alchemy.
Then you must learn to pay the price
For taking a part in blasphemy."

The lonely scholar was mocked and ignored
For keeping his lifelong ambition,
And quietly he reflected aloud,
"But I had such an honorable vision!"

He knew, deep inside, that the reason behind
His endeavor was misunderstood.
His desire was to eradicate pain
And service the much greater good.

As this thought slipped away from his weary mind
So too did the vial he was wielding,
And with a crash, the glass it did smash,
Upon products he'd not yet been yielding.

Incensed by ineptness and frustrated by failure,
He renounced any chance of recovery.
The scientist destroyed the reaction he'd employed
Naïve of his brilliant discovery.