The Tempests of a Modern Prometheus

It was just a thought,
a bit of construction,
a bit of clay.
It was just an idea
that captivated every faculty,
that enforced a need to pursue its completion.

Clutch a handful of sandy particles,
dampened by the sea,
sparkles of intrigue institute a new kind of philosophy.
A ground-breaking phenomenon,
and what was once just a thought,
just a bit of clay,
is constructed into a dangerous mechanism,
just like people,
just like the tempests in our minds,
just like the tempests we create out of simply nothing.

It was just a thought
that turned into thievery,
that turned into condemning.
It was just an idea,
an illusion no one had ever broken,
an unprecedented magnification.

Bottle up the flames from a sacred pedestal,
encroached by a prophecy of doom,
but the sparkles of intrigue push reason out of focus.
A ground-breaking phenomenon,
and what was just a thought,
just a bit of flame,
is morphed into a disastrous punishment,
just like people,
just like the tempests in our minds,
just like the tempests we create when we needn't.

It was just a thought
a bit of clay,
a bit of flame.
It was just an idea
that captivated every faculty,
and led to the creator's self-imposed damnation.