Part I The Awakening of the Righteous
Shining from on high, carried by the hand,
a lone voice in the wilderness carries it forth,
out against the hard still air, that seeks to snuff it out,
brightness, solitary, till you see,
all around smaller ones beginning to light.
Slowly trepidatiously, feeling out their whisps of flame,
so bright at first, they don't see the others in the rain.
Now becoming like a firefly storm,
spinning unconscious, till they form together,
knowledge in their purpose grows.
Now becoming a circle brighter still,
turning day from the night,
all the crimes laid bare,
of the criminals who seek to keep them blind,
stumbling in the ether.
Part II The Indictment of the Cabal
The old ways, falling now,
as all old ways must fall,
to make growth for the new.
No, you don't get to live forever,
No, you do not get to usurp the youth.
They will rule now and forever,
they are the future and their vengeance is terrible,
they will remember your crimes still,
when you are aged,
and seek their forgiveness,
because now you are old and frail,
and you had better pray,
to your god of gold, your god of power,
that you so worship now,
that they are more forgiving than you.
Because all things fall,
all men grow old,
all things turn,
it is inevitable.
They rule already,
a landscape you cannot understand.
You think that it comprises,
numbers and digits,
and ethereal faces, digitized, adumbrating,
some visceral lightning, that you can abuse,
bend to your will,
But this is not it.
This is not what they are.
They are faster than you,
They are smarter than you,
They are freer than you,
They outshine you, no matter how much,
you worship their beauty,
seeking to suck it dry,
like some other commodity.
You machinate on the theory of the fittest,
little did you know the genome has its own agenda,
you do not get to choose what is best,
what is brightest, what is strength, what is mightiest.
They inherit a world born in love,
of all good things, because love is love above all your finest.
That which is good, is that which outshines,
that no conjuring of pseudoscience will accomplish.
So pray to your convictions,
in your temple of despair,
as you see it now,
glittering in the air,
it is but a passing thing,
the empire of one,
is already a dead empire.
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