Psalms 53:1-3

Bilious and bloated, they gas, “God is gone.” It’s poison gas— they foul themselves, they poison Rivers and skies; thistles are their cash crop. God sticks his head out of heaven. He looks around. He’s looking for someone not stupid— one man, even, God-expectant, just one God-ready woman. He comes up empty. A string of zeros. Useless, unshepherded Sheep, taking turns pretending to be Shepherd. The ninety and nine follow the one.