They Don’t Know: a poem

Staff Writer
They do not know where they’re going,
Blindly following the procession to Zion,
But reality is a different story,
All they hear is the siren’s song.
They do not know what they’re seeing,
Praising the women in gold,
To them no blemish, no stain, no wrinkle,
Or so they are told.
They do not know what they’re hearing,
From the wealthy pockets reporting the news,
Another form of propaganda,
The worst, truth and lies are confused.
They do not know that they don’t know,
Because they see glass as coal,
Yes, I see they have a part,
But they cannot see the whole.