Poem Number 7535

So close
they relish their folly a world unto them
of markets indexed lies and blind obediance
blood spills in deserts for a lust of crude
its inhabitance laughs at their opaqe vision
soon comes the fresh wind of a young hannibal
king georges court of fools relagated to crawford
to ply their wears at carnivale and sanitariums.
the end.

I'm going to add these words to the start up there...
So close to the answer
of all answers.
Just when I thought
my fingers had closed tight
securing it in my grasp,
it vanished.
My soul screamed
until no more scream was left,
just more of the same
until I find it again
maybe next time
it won't run away.