Conspiracies converge and stick in clumps
like burdock burs in fur of ignorance.
“Trust no authorities, they all are chumps!”
cry theorists in chorus. . . “Join our dance!”

But past the Dunning-Kruger peak I find
the wisdom of self-questioning and doubt:
Opinon and belief infect my mind
like any other. I must root it out. . .

I thrash in a furious sea of firm opinions,
smothered in crashing waves of true belief,
wishing I could fly on reason’s pinions
into the air of facts, and breathe relief.