I let the lambs go
straight on and up
into the arms
of an imaginary being.

Cause they have
been struggling,
sweating
sugar stains
from the pits
of their pain.

All they can see
is a better life
breathed into being
after death.

They are tired.
Like me they cry.
I know they try,
mostly,
to do right.
I think they
are trying
to do right.

We all got our doubts.
We all got our pains.
We are all struggling.
Some struggle in vain
to satisfy an imaginary guy
but I understand.

Sheep need a shepherd.
However, if they ever
tire of being a sucker,
I still have my staff
and I can walk them back
from the cliff
they are trying to run over.