Trouble in Haikuland

So, our all-mighty, ever-present, benivolent God Google is playing favorites, eh? Some of us can get in, and some cannot. I can write my heart's desires, and you cannot even open this can of worms. Funny. That is, strange. I mean, what is going on? Or: is it possible we have a worm in our midst? Or worse? I dare not write it for fear of awakening its ire to the point where we all are doomed.
But wait. We are poets, right? We thrive on challenges. We are now challenged. Shall we rise to this ocassion, or shall we sink? To whom can we turn, other than ourselves? What is the way out? The way out is the only way we poeds know: write a poem!
Here's one:
mysteries seen, felt, feared
seem real to innocents
but what's true to us: haiku
Take that, you worm!