Does not the right hand wash the left?
Is not still one the house that's cleft?
Are not the same the just and vile?
Both acquiescence and denial?
All things begin in ideal ways
But idealism never stays,
For once granted the power's staff
Corruption rips ideal in half,
And half again and on, et al
Till naught remains except to fall
To new ideas whose time have come,
To once again repeat the dumb.
For once can we escape our bane,
Affinity towards such pain?