The Craftsman's Dilemma

I’m a worker, attempting to master my craft;
constructing messages; word by word;
whenever, in time, I construct each new draft,
such a thought, seems even more absurd.

Wisdom and knowledge float about in eternity;
available to those, willing; to seek and find.
Must I be the one, to father thought’s maternity;
helping others to see how reality’s designed?

Only the weak, are able, to strengthen the strong;
for the strong are arrogant and proud;
becoming mere fools; willing to go along;
prompting evil, to laugh our loud.

Only the poor are able, to confront the rich;
for they are the ones with nothing to lose;
life has already confined them to a ditch;
and the middle class is terrified to choose.

I’ve been commisioned, by the Master’s voice;
whispered to me in the darkness of night;
now is the time, to make freedom your choice;
building bridges of love, to the Light.

Most artisans and craftsmen of words are silent;
the ones, most gifted, have little to say;
while others, become fools; leading the violent;
evil actions, never win the day.

Provided by the wisdom of the Master, above;
all craftsmen of words must make a choice;
motivated, only, by His Wisdom and Love;
we must construct a bridge with our voice.

The Cardboard Breadman
1/31/22.