Poetry

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I am being sought by those,
Who has never invited me;
Because it is God only knows,
Who is always able to see.

Here I am not called by name,
To a place that I was not called;
I spread out my hand to proclaim,
To faithless people who are flawed.

To rebelliously people,
Who do walk not in a good way;
Encourage them to the temple,
And no longer going astray.

People that provoked to my face,
Sacrifice gardens to offer bricks;
Spending nights in a secret place,
Sitting in tombs and burning sticks.

They eat the tainted meat of swine,
Keeping himself as too holy;
Drinking from a bottle of wine,
Smoke from sticks makes him lowly.

Smoke from fire goes up his nose,
A fire that burns all the day;
Recompensed bosom as it flows,
Keeping silent but will repay.

Iniquities of his father,
As well as all those of his own;
Forgiven and no further,
When confessed be overthrown.

Because of offerings were made,
God will measure into their lap;
Former deeds when in having strayed,
Blasphemed caused by an evil trap.

Copyright ©2022 Richard Newton Sherrer

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