I like my food spicy; some like their food bland.
I like an adventure; some want their lives planned.
My love is a woman who takes her own stand
While others want someone whom they can command.
While some treat their love like a delicate flower—
Watched and protected, locked up in some tower—
My love, I am certain, has shown she has power,
Which grows every day, and in truth, every hour.
My love has a power, which must be respected;
She’s earned it, of course, she’s not falsely protected
To make up for promises long since neglected,
Like some I could name, though that’s not unexpected.
My love is amazing; my love never tires,
My love, like a goddess, compels and inspires,
A muse to the people—like Dawkins or Myers—
Who wear on their sleeves scientific desires.
Some long for the common; we put our reliance
In methods where evidence earns its defiance;
We’ll climb till we see even further than giants—
The woman I love is a beauty called Science.
What… you want context? Ok, here.