A prophet's bounty, no more surprises

I've melted my eyes
While counting backwards in the darkness from infinity
Staring at star charts in a windowless room
Or watching for an anchorage while docked
Dreaming of the endless blue
Coagulation of life
What of the vital force
Mere essence of imprisonment
to a vessel of flesh and bone
Detach the souls illusion
And swing free from the rafters of mastery
Law of rhythm in Pandemonium
Maniacally creaking out the to and thro
Why gasp when all is known
Why choke up without surprise
Why look forward to what's been looked upon
Even the future is a memory now
The present long since passed
And the past has lost it's sentimentality
Do prophet's reside in perpetual knowing
Of each and every moment
Not that of de ja vu
but that of completions re-run
How mystified is the grimace of acceptance
Upon finding out delusion is the breach
Into which this reality has slipped
With every second guess replaced by certainty
Clarify the dimishing excitement
With crosses carved to tally
The now sterile miracles
Which in their permanence
Have lost ethemeral charms
Just altar stone and charred effigies
Now rock and charcoal
Bathed in the dust of faithful resignation
Where candle-lit stares keep the dark at bay
Defying the worthlessness of worship
The timelessness of memorial existence
A sentinel practitioners only hope
Clockless ticking of the burrowed mind
Unceasing echoes count the experiences
Whilst insanities chimes ring despondent
Feeling the hard wired reason stretched To incapacity
Spilled over, the excess leaks, when all is relevant then what is there to extract
A list of cause and effect predating my human consciousness
Debilitated by intellectual stuttering, a cacophony of wisdom drowning itself out and babbling incoherently the abstract presentation of too much too soon
Be this the bounty for which you knew not to sow only to reap
The enforced harvest of unripened crop
Is much like a tax upon the labour of clarity
Which when assumed to be a gift
Leaves the cultivator of boon angered
Proffer up not folly nor falsehood
Piety is the detrimental patience
Priesthood is the trial of tribulation
Sainthood is inabilty to demonise the self
A sanctity of preserved divine moral
An embodiment of denied pleasure
Yet not en embodiment of pleasure in denial
Like a cow grazing
Succumb to the sanguinity