Blind Guides

A lack of vision is a peril
Like a pilot flying blind
Unseeing and unknowing
He will crash with his kind
When blind spiritual guides
Lead by their gut instincts
They feel their way to riches
Tottering at the precincts
Living the night’s dream
Dancing around Hell’s rim
The Spirit offers eye salve
A balm for this blindness to
The Word in its fullness
He stands fully rejected
His truth is not needed
No cure then for this fever
Mere truth causes a shiver
Then a shrug for all’s well
‎With the wily wealth-meter

 

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