Thus says the Lord,

To little Bo Peep.

“Why have you lost my sheep?

Why are your coverings freshly knitted with wool

And why do the words you speak,

Smell like newly roasted meat?

Where are my sheep,

That I hold close to my heart?

I’ll tell you where they are!

Scattered amongst a desolate land.

Lost,

Limbs torn apart!

You were suppose to tend to my flock,

But as I knew in the beginning,

You couldn’t handle the temptation.

You couldn’t handle all the foreign abominations,

That you saw being done from coast to another nation.

Even when I provided for you green pastures,

A staff and a rod to led them by,

My wisdom to seek out with your ears and your eyes.

You just wouldn’t heed my words and stop.

Poor, Poor, Bo Peep,

But it’s not just you.

Neighbors.

Kings.

Prophets.

Parents.

Teachers.

Priest!

All took the gifts I gave,

Sat and watched,

Some helped,

While they were being taken away by murderers and thieves.

Miniscule

And tedious to you,

But extreme precious to me.

Now comes the eve of the day,

When I gather up all my lost ones,

Destroy the ones that took them,

So the future can truly believe.

No, no.

Don’t cry Bo Peep.

Your mournful tears on the surface,

May look real,

But I am Him!

Your heart I can clearly see.

You don’t feel sorrow for all the kids and lambs.

The sheep and rams that died by strange beast’s teeth.

By my enemies hands.

Now I must hurt even more,

Because I must look upon your pain.

For when did I ever forsake any of you

And leave?”