Feeding On Folly

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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