Elected Tyrants

Towards us
A fly -
Messenger of miniature news.

What of a lie,
Small one?
And a small conscience bears report:

Nothing of consequence,
Nothing of import
While leviathan live.

Who brings word of those?
Surely thy wing can not be so heavy.
What of dishonor then?

Much the same.
There are giants to
Make a dwarf look a dwarf.

Alas, mightier than we to convey such a burden,
Dear fly.
What grander things do you know of?

Of adultery and murder
Of sacrilege, blasphemy
And of tyrany.

Evil say you,
Vile and wretched say we!
From what wicked land do you come?

Thou should know it,
I am sure.
Thou does know it.

The weight of your load has wearied your mind,
We are sure.
What land, fly, so we may hate it!?

Yours!
It is your land, tyrants.
Do you not see yonder leviathans looming?

We have not a window.
We have not a door.
Trust we an insect's testimony?

What knows a man of his dung
Even when he makes it his bed?
The truth do I love.

And a bug is to a shoe
As wisdom to folly.