The Sheppard of the pulse
was a friend of the heart
but was not at the start
The start was sparked
by the wetting of the egg
which after a few strokes
formed the cord of life
into some evolving line of karma
Of course there were dizzy cheerleaders
lining the bounded boarders
dressed in white pilgrim thoughts
cheering on fresh winged angels
that had been hired by God who
had already lost a son
to the violence of ignorant men
These same men pleaded like guilty sheep in front
of well rehearsed hungry wolfs
who ran the weird order of time
until the well ran dry of sanity minds
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