Goats of Good Faith

The goat with which I played has gone astray.
As I sit, I am hit with fil├ęt.
"What is this tasty meal I have been served?"
I inquir'd in a tone much perturbed.
"My gift to you in form of battered fish.
But it sure can go back if you wish,
And I can bring more favored meals to thee."
"By no means, my young goat. 'Tis delish!"
We both enjoyed the wonder of our breath,
Unaware of the sky whisp'ring "death".

It wasn't 'till the early eve of dawn,
Had discovered our spot on the lawn,
That in the sickly sky there was a hush,
As a man starkly hid in the brush,
Revealed his presence with a sickly groan.
"Well, excuse me, mysterious sir,
But you have eavesdropped on our precious words.
Any man with a stomach for THAT,
Is surely not a friend of mine!" I spat.
"But I fell from the sky!" he adjured.

"I fell and fell 'till nature set me down.
From the sky I'm delivered. Profound!"
He croaked, "And here by God at last I'm found!"
"You are not any prophet to be;
A carcass on the weaving web of time!
You are blasphemy!" "Oh! Most sublime!"
I cringed and turned with malice to my friend,
As his words were like lye boiling skin.
I cried, "In him you are believing in?"
"He is kind. He is humble. I am."