Baaa!

O Little Sheep
Senseless Sheep
Estranged but not leaving,
afraid but not shaking.

Chewing on the grass
trying to appreciate the green & his own breath

O Senseless Sheep
Aware of your own lack.
These voices are calling, conflicting and confusing
as tracing the decent of a rain drop in a storm.

The Sheep will not be moved.
Will not come to the sound of his name.
He cannot remember how these voices entered the pen.
Was it through the Gate? or over the fence?
To run away or to follow?

He continues to chew on the grass before him. Not without hope,
but no longer straining to listen.