Why Not a Final Prophet

Someday, maybe, someone really
Will show up on time to complete
The teachings of all past prophets,

Sum them all up and compact them
While doing harm to none of them,
Every fine paradox intact,

Every contradiction resolved,
With none of their intricacies
Removed, a marvelous, folding

Tesseract of faith, opening
And closing the truth’s elytra
In symmetrical hyperspace,

So that everyone is in awe,
No proselytizing called for,
Instant understanding, at last,

At last, now all the prophecies
Make sense, none of them excluded,
All faiths correct, none deluded.

There’s wildfire smoke on Valhalla
This evening, and everyone’s left
The shoreline to pursue their lives,

And nothing’s quite right with humans,
While everything feels incomplete,
Waiting that prophet with such faith

As can encompass all of this
And bring belief to conclusion,
Complete relief, so all can cease.