Incomplete

Some say methinks I'm paranoid,
Paranoid to fight the void,
The void that sleeps,the void who hunts,
The void that preys,prays never-
preys never tin the morn,
Because we mourn,what those who have gone before Him,have borne.
For when we are born,
Some,He says,must die,
That invalid wound of being a being,
and for the rest,
The megre,insignificant and wretched,
...Our foolish...-
are foolhardy puissant individuals,
And precarious fob eachother off as,
Whose persona is not pellucid,
Forget their ignorance-through the leviathan,
So is it best,not to be the best,
The distinctive,innate and innocuous,
But just.....Ordinary