He stands before his gathered fold,
With fiery words, so harsh and bold.
Preaching fear and righteous rage,
As kindness fades from pulpit’s stage.
The book he holds, its pages worn,
Speaks love for all, the meek, the torn.
Yet from his lips spill scorn and spite,
A twisted gospel cloaked in might.
I knew him once, a softer soul,
Who spoke of grace as hearts’ true goal.
But now he rails with bitter cries,
And trades compassion for thin disguise.
When I wrote of mercy, hope, and care,
He mocked my words, said I wasn’t fair.
Claimed kindness weak, a coward’s stance,
As if love deserved no second chance.
But isn’t love the heart of creed,
The quiet act, the selfless deed?
Did Christ not walk with those cast low,
And teach forgiveness as hearts’ true glow?
A shepherd’s role is not to chide,
But lead with grace, not wrath and pride.
The voice that shames and fuels despair,
Forgets the cross and mercy’s prayer.
So preach your fire, but know this well:
True faith won’t thrive where hatred dwells.
For love endures, though mocked and torn,
And kindness rises each new morn.
