The Guardian

In a village consumed by avarice, Where the meek are crushed with malice, A spectral being now roams, To shield the people in their home.

The denizens here pay their dues, But the tax collectors always refuse, Their coffers are funnelled to the greedy few, While the destitute toil without a breakthrough.

But in the profundities of night, a spirit awakes, A potent vigour that none can shake, It wanders the avenues with a watchful eye, Safeguarding those doomed to die.

The apparition emerges, an eerie sight, And the crooked tremble with fright, For they know that their time has come, And their evil deeds will be undone.

The bizarre presence is a formidable power, A guardian of the people in their darkest hour, With a single whiff, it can heal and mend, And bring justice to those who offend.

So let the covetous beware, For the spectral existence is always there, Defending the innocent from harm, And bringing solace to this beleaguered farm.

Am I god or supernatural, the name does matter.