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The profit cajoled barefoot acolytes
as we all gathered neath retreating light.
“Just over the hill, swear you’re almost there,
just follow finger I point in the air.
It’s just a short walk, perhaps dozen steps,
to get to safe place where love is embraced.”
Red sky in morning set out full of hope,
with darkness falling last dozen could cope.

Eyes looked to the west, sun’s glare we did face,
needed safe haven quicker’n posthaste.
Nearly defeated in body, mind, soul,
I longed for respite, from sentence parole.
Promises tired, assurances weak,
looked at garden path and my tears did streak.
Tears flowed from my eyes as I bit my tongue
as the dozen steps with glass shards was strung.

He’d stripped off our shoes from soles of our feet
I’d laid bare my soul, believed great deceit.
Believed all the lies about greater good
how with our marching we’d achieve sainthood.
Stupid flagellates, we hamburgered soles,
the torment we’d borne as profit extolled.
Extolled us to work, excel in labor
knowing all the while fate of believers.

I’ve nowhere to sleep though I’m walking dead
followed profit’s path as to glass shards led.
All I have is bile, tonight’s sustenance,
reward’s my ruin; profit lacks conscience.
“Just over the hill, swear you’re almost there,
just follow finger I point in the air.
It’s just a short walk, perhaps dozen steps,
to get to safe place where love is embraced.”