A shepherd, learned, with crook in hand,
will lead his flock to pasture.
But what if sheep were not his flock,
and he was not their master?
With spirits drained, he lights the flame
and points it toward its feeding.
But he learns fast who will be cowed
and who will do the leading.
A scorned man sees and soon he knows.
The flames climbed high and faster.
That crook’s worth less than kindling now.
He’s led his flock to pasture.
Poetry
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loved it
Nice…
I liked your poem and also the meaning, thanks for sharing.
Wow, that’s really beautiful, I like the subtle rhymes!