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The Writing continues. Go figure.
Food for thought:
"did i request thee, maker, from clay to mold me man?
did i solicit thee from the darkness to promote me?"

A Simple Truth

One for all.
All for naught.
A vicious cycle I've always fought.
if i die before its end,
that's one less task i'll have to tend.
But if I live to see it through,
I'll have done all you asked me to.
And only then can I feel truly whole,
Having completed my life's goal.

Now it's time to teach them all
Why the curtain has to fall.
It's time for all the dreams to end
So the world can live again.
But how do you show to the blind
What even the seers cannot find?
How do you teach true unity
To a society in love with diversity?
Though pain and pleasure gain attention
It's never with healthy intention.
For avarice and desire to fulfill,
They race, and laugh, and kill.
Never again shall they see
My World of true virtuosity...

This isn't due to any righteous act;
Blame is given to a simpler fact:
The Renaissance showed us peace and prosperity.
Not by militant supremacy, but via philosophical unity.
We no longer wish to understand,
But live in decadence and raze our brothers' land.
It's human nature; our Prime Directive.
Our passion and bloodlust are all too infective.
For gods and kings we wage wars and crusades,
But it's all for naught as time passes and fades.
The only true changes that are here to stay
Are on the path of Enlightenment, illumining the way.
This Enlightenment is not the search for gods or spirits,
But the pursuit of knowledge and the sharing of wits.
With discovery and invention come the true gains,
And our Brotherhood of Man shares its victories and pains.

Though we are individuals of many creeds and colors of skin,
We are ultimately all of the same kin.
Though we are divided by language and race,
The true bond of humanity overcomes any vastness of space.
That is the virtue we all must share,
Because this World is in our care.
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a strained [and incomplete] attempt to explain this Paradise Lost

from dust to dust, i rise and fall;
life springing forth toward winter's call.
i press on aimlessly through good and bad,
through the ecstasies and strifes all have had:
self-destruction with effortless gall.

the parables i've heard, and the lessons i've learned;
the homeless i've helped, but the world i've spurned.
if the gods themselves condone the act of murder,
what's the point of religious fervor?
sanity itself has been overturned.

nor can i subscribe to reincarnation,
for life is not lost when life is taken.
when each is merely a recycled man,
our souls equated to the aluminum can,
we are abundant resources cheaper than tin.