A prophet's doubt

Spelling the power of plexus,

Slithering down the pulse,

Primordial vision that promised evolution,

In remorse, with biting thrust.

Parsimonious expenditure of sense,

Too reverent to oneself,

Littered thoughts pursuing their actions,

Convergence to attitude will bite the dust.

Being ameliorant was the definition,

Culminating in the perfection of balance,

Designed for that destination.

But, craving for the ideal, tilted the stasis.

Vapidity was venomous,

Antidotes seemed to only suppress

Bleak scars do history show,

The breakdowns were violent and changed the course.

Pervasive actions, preached insight.

Look into yourself and clean your eyes.

Dirt’s on the lens, but the blame is on light,

It showed the path but the deviations were bright.

Being leviathan was just relative,

No men understood the illusion outright.

Document called it greed, but some found it pride.

To wish and to guide, no rules to abide,

Unprepared for the tide, threw the ambitions wide.

Preaching was to be just proud of,

And attenuation was never thought of.

Direction was shown to the blind,

Open thoughts, just left to unwind.

Saddle was single but two people were tied,

Neither perfect nor balanced, let the chaos do confide.