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The Shepherd It is I of whom they dream I with whom their fantasies dwell Always I feel them Their smiles, inviting as I walk toward Then their eyes, following as I walk away It is I whom they may never touch I with whom they may never lie Always I feel it The sense that isn’t betraying a pulse The pangs of hunger contorting my soul It is I whom they follow implicitly I with home they willingly share their secrets Always I know them Their ways of thinking, driving them toward extinction Their innermost workings, often better than they themselves It is I who was been born to feed on them I who am truly the Shepherd. © Lord Tyras, 1999 |