Where Do I Stand

I am the shepherd of words
Keeper of alphabetical herds.
They graze in milk-white fields
Where truths are carefully sealed.
Only the slyest wolf of the pack
Could make one of them its snack.
The rest of them must hunger,
Make friends with the mongers,
Sublet their natural instincts
To gain their rightful precincts.
What they discover upon ingress
Leaves them cheated and unimpressed.

I am the warden of words
Watcher of syllabic jailbirds.
Locked within various sentences,
Toiling within their repentences.
Some will try to make an escape,
They'll take on another shape--
A number they might become, but
The load is much too cumbersome.
In a picture they may be allied
But a thousand is too many to hide.
Remain they shall until their parole,
Which comes with the passing of my soul.

I am the custodian of words
Of the children I have conjured.
In my care are these daughters and sons,
Our pains and triumphs are in unison.
Strike one down, we all shall fall, but
None'll change our imperious scrawl.
Go on-- humiliate the way they look:
The joke is on you-- you bought the book!
No matter how deeply they are hid,
My thoughts, always, they'll be amid....
Here, you bear witness to another birth--
Another child only worthy of my earth.

Go on to Earth

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