Deftly avoiding obvious ambiguity

Thinking thus, I become dismayed with the enchantments before me now. The turn of memory serves and is served in accord with alignments far beyond current human comprehension. An ancient codex ingrained in our very genetic structure calls us to evolve so, and suffer for it. The ambition of spirit lives in a cage of it's own device. A thin disguise, to be sure, but what it lacks in structural integrity it more than makes up for in flexibility.

Processed by electric gravity
I spark the former darkness
And then stand between
The dream and the duality
Where all I see is light
Against the veil of time
I lay my head each night

"Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
- William Shakespeare, Macbeth