Preacher on his pulpit
Podium cradles the Word
Dusty book of good intent
Guide gifted to the world
Pious woman clad in Sunday's best
While husband holds back a snore
Obligation to look the zealous part
The act of faith a yearly chore
The rich offer from their surplus
Earned from lies and greed
One woman in a tattered shaw
She gives her only means
As they walk out at midday
Their slate is clear from sin
Free to tangle with the world
Again free to fill it to the brim
As selfishness runs rampant
As the world fills with hate
The Lord watches heavy hearted
And the Lord so kindly waits
©lisasch
L