The Accord of Discord (Short-Poem)

I journeyed one night to a hovel
Where a friend of a friend had dined
To learn of a concept quite novel
Of chaos kept in ordered bind

They told me this Master of Mischief
Despite all his natural throes
Had kept himself kindly, though misfit
To the equines he once had opposed

That 'friendship', they clamored, had cured him
Of tendencies to deconstruct
And forming this bond had insured him
From his own willingness to corrupt

Was I a skeptic? For certain
The concept made little sense
The Lord of Laughter's last curtain
Had fallen on such small expense?

I sought out the creature directly
For I wouldn't be riddled with doubt
On whether he could incorrectly
Have taken such a simple route

Hearing his words, I was baffled
For some rules couldn't be bent
Yet he had invented a scaffold
To climb, and himself, circumvent

“Some people may call me crazy
But I think that's all point of view
For when all the world's looking hazy
I know just what to do”

“When all the squares make a circle
And all those circles a line
When nothing seems to be certain
That's when everything's fine”

“You say I'm wrong in my actions
You think I'm far out of line
You know I'm playing false factions
Guess what? Everything's fine”

He smiled so coyly it suit him
He glimmered his scheming eyes
He rested his head, taking root in
His own little throne of lies

I left that hovel enlightened
On Chaos' ways to corrupt
That, given one's spirit had brightened
Discord could, itself, interrupt