Power: A poem 

It is true that power corrupts 

From its throes strife erupts. 

Those that are endowed with this mortal gift 

Should for peace and prosperity always lift 

Not to use it for disparity and go tellingly adrift 

With war and callousness, thus only causing rift 

To use influence and greatness for resounding goodness 

Is the calling of the magnanimous, the very blessed. 

Seldom does good sense prevail in the world 

When hate and oppression are carelessly unfurled 

Leaving multitudes to suffer in their cruel wake 

That’s how our leaders our destiny selfishly make 

The objective of every ruler should be good governance 

To ameliorate pain and create sustenance 

That a virtuous ruler must lay down personal aspiration 

To the altar of God, for His rightful dispensation