Congregation

A congregation now vacant
Gathers to hang on his words
To worship his voice
Consume his lies
Dedicated to all who
Believed in his wisdom

He plays to the assembled crowd
His voice rising
To greet the back
To sway the front
As blind eyes gaze upon
The misdirection

Those days have come
Those days have gone
Dust is all that remains
His voice now hollow
His hands limp by his sides
The mask hiding his defeat askew