The sheep, the wolves, and the sheperd. The innocent, the knowledgable, and the teacher. The pure, the immoral, and the guide. Does a sheperd in guiding his sheep to greener pastures bring them closer to the wolves? Does a teacher in instruction pull the student away from innocence? Does a guide keep purity unmixed with immorality? What is the end result of the efforts of the sheperd, the teacher, and the guide?
To lose one’s way, is it the fault of the sheperd, the teacher, or the guide? Does each take a person for a ride? Is the ride unknown, the instruction faultless, regardless of the engineer’s blueprint’s gauntlet? Does the sheperd, the teacher, and the guide have their own overseer hidden inside? The over-man, the over-woman, the over shower giving to the knower. The four directions each have their blower.
To be eaten by wolves or to evade the pack, what is the smack of attack that got Jack? Was it the will of Jill or the fault of the hill? The bucket nonetheless does spill. And sitting in judgement of the poet’s ink dried, who are we to specialize? The specialized understanding of a fool in illusion standing. Overstanding sheep, wolves, and shepherds bring the knowledge of the tree of good and evil to the people. Open the doors, look at the steeple.
Placeholder people placed in places where placing is of the placer. What spacer is between the placer and the placed? Who resides in the space, the place, and the placing? Are we counting sheep, on the hunt, or giving chase? The race does give pace between the contestants and the contested. Does the coach know the most? Or is it the judge that determines the outcomes nudge?
Anyone in this world can look around and see it’s whirl. From time began to the seconds tick, what ick do we learn from the light wheel’s trick? From the trick do we stick. The sticking done by astrology’s gum does make the hum. All the while the placeholder’s speil does turn the wheel. We sit. We move. We think. We emote. The hanging up of a trench coat.
A lone sheep. A lone wolf. A lone sheperd. Who has lost their flock, their pack, their herd? Who is the lone to adhorn? A rooster perhaps, who announces the day? A hen whose rhine is for thine? A moon, a sun, perhaps a star? How far does the lone look anar? The lone’s sheperd sees in all directions with inflections via the connections.
The placeholded sheep, wolf, and sheperd breaking free from the expected unknown. What level does the unplaced find oneself amidst the levels of the leveled placed? An unleveling unnerving revealed amidst the chaos of placeholdment. Firm and set, yet never met with the truth of truth’s untelling, until the telling is met with lonely aigrette.
The innocent, the wicked, and the wise, each finding open eyes, arrive at a junction of singular function that encompasses all but thine. The guise is seen, the foreshadowed forgotten. How could this happen, this mishappened? A father’s eyes and a mother’s gaze does remove the one held hazed. It’s the maze of thought we all forgot, a sherperding family raised.
