Woe to the Shepherd Who Scatters
Nothing more can be done for them
A Poem
Woe to the shepherd who scatters
The innocent ones in his keep,
Who has no concern for the lost,
Who never acts nor cares to seek
His interests in their matters,
Sees to himself at any cost,
Their lives often bought far too cheap.
Woe to the false ruler who takes
Lady Liberty by the scruff,
And tells her she alone must make
A way for his every whim,
Has not a single thought nor taste
For the beliefs of other men,
And never has enough to take,
As he fills his golden coffers,
And satisfies his endless lust
For attention and brute power
He must take them at any cost,
Justice never dares to render
Any question of consequence
For the grifter and pretender.
Who is there now left to face him,
Who listens to their helpless pleas,
Who will care and heal and fasten
The wounds that have been cut so deep,
Would anyone still dare approach
And engage the egregious wolf,
Is there one who will care to speak?
Hope that they will somehow listen
To the voice of the genuine seer,
Recognize the truest vision,
And clearly face their future fear.
Nothing more can be done for them,
There is no lasting ray of hope,
Should they not turn away from here.
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