A Scholar's Lament Upon the Digital Battleground: A Shakespearean Soliloquy of Science vs. Ignorance

Yet must I stoop to answer their mad cries?  
Shall I unsheath my sword of evidence,  
And duel with ghosts who wield but empty air?

Forsooth! They hear not reason's gentle call;  
Their ears are stopped with wax of willful pride.  
And yet—what jest is this?—I find myself  
Ensnared within their folly's endless maze.

For though I wield the torch of learned truth,  
The moths of madness flock unto its flame.  
But soft! What light through yonder chaos breaks?  
It is the hope that some may yet be saved.

Perchance one soul amidst this braying throng  
Shall hear my words and turn from shadowed paths.  
Thus must I labor on this thankless field,  
A scholar 'gainst an army of buffoons.

Though Sisyphus himself might pity me,  
I shall not yield my post nor mute my voice.  
For though the fools may jeer and mock my art,  
The truth shall stand when all their lies depart.

So come, ye trolls! Ye jesters of the void!  
Hurl forth thy slings and arrows if ye must.  
For every barb thou casteth at my breast,  
I'll forge a shield from reason's tempered steel.

And when at last this fleeting age hath passed,  
When all thy memes are dust upon the wind,  
My works shall stand—a monument to thought—  
While thou art but a whisper in the dark.

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