Sortition

Friday, as a gift, my brother sent me a box of books. One, an old crispy well browned collection of Emerson, including poetry, had once been (we think) our Mothers’.
This isn’t really Emerson’s style (His was very 19^th century, lots of rhyming couplets), but for this tome I do blame him for the alchemy.
 

Sortition

Oligarch asked the Sortition;
"To serve you best, you wise men all,
 Say how may I state my position?"
The Sortition answered Oligarch;
"By pleasing us, you buy us all,
 What we ask is manumission"

Oligarch promised the Sortition;
"I can bring wealth, make rich you all,
  Space for your kin, from famine and rust"
The Sortition answered Oligarch;
"We are men of virtues’ parsimony,
  We work, we tithe, in God we trust"

Oligarch fought for the Sortition;
"I will protect you, your lives,
 Your homes, your lands, you’re rights!"
The Sortition answered Oligarch;
"We need no rights that come from you,
  You serve yourself in all you do" 

Oligarch begged of the Sortition;
"At least let me fund your charity"
The Sortition answered Oligarch;
"It’s not we delegates that choose you,
  But what we choose delegate to you"

The Sortition walked to the Oligarch’s gate,
Where they found a soul ill-treated by fate,
Her empty cup extended, asking,
Her feet most sore in need of washing,
Blindfolded and baring the scales
Of human justice’inflicted ails,
A beggar woman, a homelss bum,
Though untouchable they chose her, the shunned,
And told Oligarch;
"You want to serve?
  Serve us the least, to serve us best,
  You serve this one"