Answers without questions

What venom does spew
From the cataclysm that is you
Or is jasmine thy scent
And 'tis I who is blind

Am I staring at merely a piece of glass
Upon which the sun is shinning
Or is this mountain of light
Koh-i-noor and it is the dead of night

What storms are set to brew
Has vanity fair run a muck
Perhaps again, 'tis I, the mindless wonder
Who can not see the forest

Have the stars lined up
Is this the eve of destruction
Or is it the dawning of a new age
And my bigotry will not set me free

Catharsis, it is said, is good for the soul
Time is needed here
And searching for something
The fault is within