Each day your chosen one smiles empty smiles and gives
Empty promises, and you accuse me of being a doubting
Thomas? I would fain be kindred to Thomas till I be proved
Mistaken, that those promises are otherwise, not hollow!
Where, O Lord, do I turn to, when thy chosen one shows
Teeth reddened by sheep’s blood as he sits on his throne,
Surrounded by acolytes who belt out platitudes as they wait
To stab unawares? And you call me a doubting Thomas?
But days turn to months and months into years and still I
Try to find solace in empty promises, while wolves gather
To devour innocent sheep, scaring away the shepherd!
In his place sits one on a throne dressed in sheep’s skin!
O, Lord! Where is thy justice that you should strike down,
Those in sheep-skin and bring back the kindly shepherd to
Tend his flock with love and kindness? But, days turn to
Endless nights, of empty promises and hollow assurances!
How so poor spiritually is one who has nothing to give but
Empty promises and hollow smiles, and you would call me a
Doubting Thomas? For should I be not, while your chosen
One sits in sheep’s skin belting out hollow platitudes ?
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