The sheep ate the herdsmen

creations are obvious

a herdsmen,

for many a sheep

small, minions

grazing for the need

sweating for the winter

faith beyond skies, love

that can build, or sweep away.

its the test of the herdsmen

fathom million or minions

very few resist with integiry, rest

brew worms of gluttony,

spiteful, hiding in veil

a mean machine.

you strike at dawn

swallow with no remorse

but unknown, the worm lives.

what you annihilated

now you nourish

inside you

devouring your wisdom

steps staggering,

the fall is certain

it’s naïve to think

you have saved

for a legacy.