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I can do naught, but marvel at the mind
That credulously to untruths succumb,
As though the eye of reason is struck blind,
And senses, all, are chronically numb;
Has common sense her age old insight lost,
Confounded by unfounded wiles of fear?
Can ways be found corrosion to accost,
Lest treasured mores forever disappear?
Let not the breath of despair foul the air,
Contaminating hope to spawn discord,
Lest nationhood be rent beyond repair,
Sent hurtling to a future, untoward.
Armed with forefathers’ grit and self-belief,
The people shall defeat presumptuous chief.
© Meanderings 2017.
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Autumn Ambles 