UNDONE

We can be delusional
Until we analyze our maladies,
And find their faults exploited
By folk who should know better.
Preachers, politicians and
The lesser spotted body guard
Who follow them, and
Validate their handling.
Our little empires of doubt
Are ploughed over in the night,
And parodied ravines dug
For morning sacrifice;
Simple insecurities increased
And multiplied until we
Don’t know our past from
A hole in the ground.