A bias on the lines of life
Seems always to be there,
Slightly warping everything
The thickness of a hair.
It even turns the ship of state
By just a few degrees.
Anon the vessel founders low
In poorly charted seas.
Just so, in every deviant thought
The warp of truth is found.
To subtly ease the well-steered helm
To finally run aground
The open seas must be achieved
Ere sails can be unfurled.
Then charted, tested truth will give
The vessel to the world.
Full many a man and many a cause
Embarked with noble goals.
But inattention to the helm
Wrought wreckage on the shoals.
Beware therefore the warp of life
That bends us from the plan.
With chart and compass stay the course.
At stake? The soul of man.