Feeding On Folly

February 21, 2014

The problem we face

Is one of pride;

We want to believe

That the answer's inside

So we build with our hands

And observe with our eyes,

Jump to conclusions

And trust in our minds

That the world we create

Created itself:

The depth generated

Within and without

Complexity formed

(Incomplete with no aim)

By a blob on a rock

Over time, frame-by-frame

But the numbers don't compute

The cycle's not complete

The logic that they stand on

Crumbles underneath...

The simple truth:

We refuse to believe

That truth has existed

Beyond our reprieve

Consider, just briefly,

The problem at hand;

Instead of believing,

We just reprimand

We'll float with the current,

Rather than think:

Our thirst always quenched

By the lies that we drink

Since when is prestige

Any measure of ground?

"Based on his name,

His premise is sound."

I suggest we abandon

Our blind apathy

And attest all deception

'cause our minds are asleep.

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