two men who almost met
tesla
knelt before lightning
like it was a god
that could be taught generosity.
he split the sky open
and called it progress
never asked what starving hands
would do once they learned
how to pull the trigger.

wells
built futures
out of warnings
and dared humanity
to listen.
sharpened words
until they screamed.

neither of them slept well.
one heard voices inside machines.
the other heard screams
inside tomorrows.
Seeing change choking on itself.

they lived
close enough
to touch timelines
but history
kept its fists closed.

tesla wanted power
free
for everyone
he didn't ask
what hunger would do
with it.
wells wanted truth
sharp
like broken glass
he didn't soften it
so we could swallow.

they both believed
the future was coming
no matter how hard
we pretended
not to see it.

one died surrounded by pigeons
and miracles half born
the other died knowing
we read the warning
and still stepped forward.

this is the tragedy:
the dreamer
and the prophet
never sat at the same table.
because if they had,
maybe the world would have learned
how to hold fire
without burning itself alive.
or maybe
we would have ignored them anyway.

history
has always been very good
at missing the point.