Power makes of too many a man a beast
Many a holder it maddens,
And their hearts it deadens
Their senses, it threatens
Their humanity it flattens
It is the worst prey to hunt, for all mores are dispensable in her quest
It is the worst object to seek, for it blinds one to even the most obvious
It is the worst addiction for it sees one to their end
Power makes you high
And it makes you lie
Its hunter will surely cry
And him it haunts till he die
Power keeps you hungry
Even when in plenty
It makes you angry
And fills with envy
All who seek her like crazy
I have kept her an arm and a half’s lengths away
I have pinched myself when into her glare I have strayed
And on more occasions than I care to count, I have gone, to be spared her, on my knees to pray
THE RAMBLINGS OF THE FORGOTTEN SEER. 