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Poem

The council sits around the bend,
Covered by their hoods,
Under stars that hear their words,
So secret in the woods.

Sages hidden from the world,
Those gurus of the creed,
Mapping out the way of life
They think the rest should lead.

But then a question rises.

"Evidence is for believers,
Not the other guys.
So how can we present a case
To apathetic eyes?"

The master asked his fellow men,
But they could not reply.
So then the asker laid his head
And gave a heavy sigh.

"There's got to be a stepping stone,"
Another person said.
"We can't just let them give it up
And leave them out for dead."

A throat is cleared.

"Why not let them choose a path?"
So said a stranger's voice.
"After all, it is their life,
So they should have the choice." 

"He's right, you know. He's got a point."
Another member cried.
"A violation, it would be,
To not let them decide."

A lowly mumble slowly crept
And hovered in the crowd.
But that what started out so low
Was then becoming loud.

The gavel pound against the block.
"Order in my court!
It appears that we have reached
A ruling of a sort."

"Make this statement known to men,
And let it be agreed:
That men shall have the right to live
The life they want to lead."

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