Poem - Are We Worthy Of Their Life?
The sheep walk the fields
Unaware of their impending doom
Rustled by a barking dog
Swept along like dust on a broom
Slowly walking in a dreamy haze
The sun provides a moment's respite
Happiness masks tomorrow’s uncertainty
Oblivious they know not to be desperate
A banquet at their feet
Digesting their way through life
Swirling, ritualistic endeavors
Instinctive, unthinking actions are rife
Dancing on a precious patch
Herded, prodded, shoved
Head down for the moment
Do they know they are unloved?
A symbol of inevitability
I watch with idle curiosity
What is the point of this?
Other than to inspire verbosity?
Are we worthy of their death?
Or their aimless existence?
As I walk away to another duty
The answers are whispered in the distance…