Pipe dreams of power floating about ready to snatch,
By those whose egos are deemed worthy of the catch.
Though impenetrable fog covered the tricky trail ahead,
They marched despite the fact they would soon be dead.
Beyond each bend they faced a choice that must be made,
The results of which were ignored by those who obeyed.
For if power is the topic of the work we have created,
Blind devotion is the canvas upon which it was painted.
Blood is the base of the oil paint that is employed,
To tell the world the story of this prophecy deployed.
Lives lost as a summation of this fruitless endeavor,
Are the tragic story surrounding this artist so clever.
Whatever his name, we shall damn the image of his face,
So that his admirers worldwide may rethink their place.
For regardless of the details of the work or tomorrow,
Rest assured my compatriots, it will be full of sorrow.