He grieves the loss of perfect innocence; The nascent truth a herald's cries of war, For born into a world of violence, The infant quickly stands upon life's shore. Supplied and armed with faith and clad in hate, Evincing nothing more than broken hope; The gem of unity is left to fate. "How can we vanquish evil of such scope?" He ponders this, as suddenly his tea Blots out most every article of blight, A purging flood he failed to truly see. He does, however, feel a bit contrite. The coming of a new Deluge is near Perchance it's time for man to disappear.