Suicide by Democracy

We’ll do it ourselves, thank you.
We know how to progress. We know how to end the deals,
how to close down the uncertainties,
wriggle the weeds,
trim the hedges,
wash the dishes.
We know how to set things straight and comb our hair,
dry our clothes, stretch at a whim,
say our prayers and don our best hat.
We know how to act in face of adversity.
We know how to behave in the worst and best of times.
We have the script. We have the rules written down,
imprinted by thousands of years of history,
collected and pruned, until only what we deem the best has allowed to stay.
We have it all, learned, memorized, categorized, rehearsed,
we know what is best
for us.

And here you come, and ruin it all.
Here you come, all you strange, depraved folk,
all you right-doers, all you who think you know the world,
all you who think you can control the future, decide where we will go,
decide who shall rule us, and how we should be ruled.
No, we know. We have the advantage of understanding ourselves and of understanding you.
You do not surprise us. You cannot beat us, as we know that we will remain. Whereas you, you are a fleeting fancy, a wind upon the ground, a hurricane on the face of dirt, like a blush,
soon to vanish when tomorrow comes.

No, you cannot control the world.
You can think as much as you want
that there is a better future in your little corner, in your frightful idea of a space,
but we know
that whatever you bring,
it will not be good.
It will not bring our salvation.
Nor our cure.
Nor our sanity.

You come here, claiming to know the world.
You come here, ready to change the world.
But we say no. We do not want you here.
We say you crawl back to the speck you materialized from.

We’ll do it ourselves, thank you.