Simple is the shepherd

Who stands by the lake in the twilight.

He gazes at the sky, awash in pale gold

And thanks his God in the modest words of a peasant

For a day filled of familiar toil.

Genuine is the God of the shepherd

Who rejoices in an honest heart.

He loves the simple shepherd who looks over his flock with care.

His blessings flow to that lowly shepherd

In more abundance than the stars.

Majestic is the church

That stands in the distance;

A light shining religious semblance of peace.

Where priests and nuns are confident in their holiness

And words flower abundantly in prayers.

Disappointed is the God of the shepherd

Who would be god of this church as well,

But is kept away by hypocrisy and preconceptions.

He cannot give them the blessings of the shepherd;

they have their own reward.

Note: I just want to say that this is not a poem bashing catholicism, or any other religion or denomination, it is simply speaking about God's desire for honesty rather than a religious front. The reason I used "priests and nuns" is that I wrote this poem about a painting that showed a shepherd with a cathedral in the distance.