The Quaternary Syncopation

Moving through this set,
You'll find,
The trappings of,
An ancient mind,
Coupled with his pelts combined,
Of primal stitch and weave divine

Next we plot our course for land,
Disparate stones and pillars stand,
Erect along the shores of man,
Built and carved of shame by hand,
Feeble dives of ocean stilt,
Its edifice so staunch has spilt,
Across the canyons' molten hilt
Subsumed by years of ancient tilt

Swift and just, our path is young,
Flames and stakes of oak are strung,
About the crooked city's face,
Are patterns of illusions flung,
Around their necks until their hung,
For deeds assumed and horrors done,
In secrecy

Middle-aged and honor-bound,
Our princely state of pings and sounds,
Collides with corners and resounds,
Flirts come sway with rumors tired,
Stiff as strawmen,
Thugs for hire,
Empty your convictions here,
And stand atop our tattered spire

Elders now, we feast in rain,
Combat the gruffled throngs,
Of pain and whisper,
Plaintive sorrows' name,
As if to savor,
Equal trains,
Of thought so thoughtless,
Terse refrain,
From fate undaunted,
You have stained,
This journey...