The Idiot

The genius lived in a perpetual state of bliss
Ignorant, as always, as his world goes amiss
He reproaches his fellow men with unadulterated glee
“Of what account the rest,” he says, “merely humanity.”

If man and he fight, it must be man that is wrong
Their culture is inferior, for they sing not his songs
He wishes to set ablaze his torch amidst the grey sea
“I will be exalted above,” says he, “below me, humanity.”

He disregards the very minds that provide him his fuel
Indiscriminate, he burns through his meagre accrual
He sowed then what he reaped by his hatred of charity
He lost his source of sustenance,  he lost humanity

But his kind are not reasoned with, and forever remain
Slaves to their cognition, and the same old strain
Repeatedly is struck in their path to insanity
Who is thus proven wiser, them or humanity?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s