The Preacher

                   The Preacher

I stood upon my ivory mount
And searched the sullen masses
I saw those who would pervert
Who were from different classes

I called out to this downtrodden lot
To climb my mount and convert
But they could not see their need
And denied my plea in concert

They plodded away from my mount
Into the dry, arid desert
Where all is dead and there’s no flow
A place where the soul can hurt

Again I cried, Revert my friends!
Don’t ignore my healing words
Insert them deep into your soul
Don’t consider them as absurd

I wondered why they spurned my words
Is it because they are so dim
Or maybe because I see myself
So high and far above them

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Words required to be used by "Para/Poem Challenge "Open""  in this poem:
         Concert...pervert...Convert...Revert...Insert...Desert