Once was a man on earth, a God.
He made half score whole, nine left,

Hiding under vintage point to predate like tods.

But one came back, his heart heft

In appreciation of the man that made him whole

The man fixed a gaze on him like a hawk,

Then asked of the other nine that once had holes.

One replied that he had an empty space to gawp

The nine enjoyed a sail guided by a faulty compass with fingers apart,

Under the influence of a zephyr, pointing to Utopia.

They sat to debate the man and his demon; reached impasse

In the analysis of how the man is a king of Dystopia

They failed to see that they too were wrapped in weakness

And showed the man no kindness