Falling

Russian doctors
descend ungracefully
while the Liar whines and cries
from the burden that he bears

Nobody knows the truffles he’s seen,
the cross he drags around -
It’s too heavy! – he has people for that -
let them carry it, and praise him for his strength

Funeral pyres and smoking fires
and body counts again,
A far off Asian war
or just down the road -

Pretend it isn’t there

The “Roads Must Roll!”
the Man Just Sold the Moon!
there’s a Prophet to be made!

HE will foretell
of life to come
and great rewards for some
If only you will do your part

and you – and you – and you

Your sacrifice will surely win
the day for those
who told you what to do

They’ll honor you
and sing your praise
but tell me -

You are who?

(Thanks to Pogo and R.A. Heinlein)