Power

Something about corruption
But what does that mean
Perhaps it's the decay
Of that pesky moral screen
But who are we to say
Who's moral subject or object
So again we must ask
Corruption, what are you?
And perhaps we mean mistrust
Bred by hypocrisy
Those statements misaligned
With actions' reality
But what about silence
In power's demeanor
Or what if the principal
In taste or refinement
Says nothing at odds
With contradiction confinement
Then what do we mean
Perhaps it's quite simple
It's against our wishes when it exists
Natural law when it does not
Power is a river not a lake
Whether clean or dirty
When we're going downstream
We tend to stay flirty
But should the river block the path
Or rowboat point upstream
Resentment must rise
From any wayfinder
So power, you beast
What's there to do
One must see your character
And float
Or bridge
Or go beyond headwaters
For raging against a river
Never even moved a molehill
So unless power is weaker
In which case it's not itself
To see it like nature
Is the lama's bookshelf