He is left to dry washes
Wandering desperate in the dust.
He has lost his mind.
An imposter, he cannot find it
In the arroyos of deceit.
No, though he clambers on cliffs
Reflecting in glow of setting light,
He cannot see any blessing for him,
Alone, desert rats frighten him.
The table is laid bare for his friends.
He has nothing to share. He is
Forsaken; his canteen empty.
Surely despair and neglect
Cannot follow him always.
Will he dwell on the street forever?
My lord, he is supposed to have a shepherd;
To not want.