He then alludes to several sayings attributed to the Holy Idaho, the only besprouted spud of the Great Potato. He concludes with the question, when you get down to it, who can you really trust?]
"Bright City of Light Upon the Hill", o city divine:
it was proven long ago...but for whom...
for whom, I must ask, for whom does your brightness shine?
For whom belongs the curse of the deeper doom?
"Blessed are the meek," the master said,
so long ago, "for they shall inherit the earth."
The only ones who "inherit" the earth are the dead,
they and their blood which cries in silent curse
from the earth, a silent cry for justice to come.
It was also said, "Those who hunger" will be filled"!
Will anything be left when all "justice" has been done?
Will there be enough to fill a shoe, or a sparrow's bill?
When all has been said and all goes down to dust,
is there anything from the hand of a man you can trust?
In the 3rd level footnotes to the Absolute Truth, 21st Edition, I found a reference where the unknown poet answers his own question with yet another:
"If you can’t trust yourself, how can you trust anyone?"