Oath and Kin

The punctilious perambulations of my mind,
Perusing pernicious permutations of a saltatory kind.
One moment ponderous, praying, and piously practical,
The next leaping to prancing predation impiously tactical.

But let me put these games aside,
And leave off these asides.

What duties does a man hold,
Or rather which binding's still stand bold,
When due to misrepresentation,
And his own failure's slow attrition,
Another breaks an oath to him?
Is the man still bound to them?
And if the binding is of kin,
What of it then?
By blood and bone am I bound or free,
When kin lies with one arrayed as an enemy?

I thirst not for blood nor for strife,
But it will not be mine upon turmoils knife.
If I must cut these chains asunder,
With a clashing like the thunder,
And leave naught but a ruin to rot,
Then come conflict; let's see what's wrought.