Knight, Death and the Devil

The writings carried a warning:  
Do not read this unless you are a genius,  
it will be misunderstood,
and it’s better for it to not be misconstrued,  
and then passed along as hearsay.
 
It was very obvious and very true,
atomic weapons, any war,  
any place and time, and we’re doomed.  
 
Was the genie better left in the bottle?  
It doesn't matter, it could not be stopped.
 
Would the world be better off, for instance: If?  
 
If only...but who would challenge it?  
 
A difference in welfare leads to conflict,
everyone was listening, and I couldn't believe it.
 
I was filled with sacrificial feelings of the windswept existence of heretics and thinking I ought to do it.  I was running toward the cliff in complete confidence, close to death, yet closer to life more than ever; the leap was exhilarating as I was elevated into a Cloudless Canyon; the Damn of non-existence. I went to the holler of Lookout Mountain and saw the Kenosis come to life in blackness; I saw forever and one day – I stood unafraid of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. It makes no difference!  
 
My sweet teacher, Mrs. Pennell, taught me all I needed to know about Albrecht Dürer's Praying Hands. (I beg you, please don’t try and understand this. Or do it responsibly without breaking the laws)  
 
Stepping through Irony Sucks!
 
Only men of Genius have ever understood me. There is only X amount of stuff in this world, but the possibilities are endless.  My eyes bugged out with a shit eating grin, but I came to my senses on the way home.