He set out in stocking-feet, alone against the pale,
Dropped by the maze of city road,
in silence gazed where signs had showed that Ken had land for sale,
Amidst the din of of beer and gin, heard clear the city’s wail
Where drunkards bartered rights to lose, where sobriety had failed
The dimlit sky prepared to cry sat high removed from sin,
And clarity began to shine where depression had crept in.
The wake of men had left its mark,
had smothered last remaining spark
But light returned amidst the dark.
The Man of God spoke clear and soft, albeit without a word,
And banished fears where vanished tears belied hope and will deterred.
The echo carried through his mind, in passages where stagnant lied
The tritest lies he’d heard.
Where worried days and sleepless nights had settled in repose,
And hurried frays and long-past fights grew thorns without a rose.
The halls of thought sat caked with bile,
Awaited breath to sweep the tile where once had glistened peace and ire,
But now were drowned in vapid mire by worthless men and heatless fire
That burned to ash the light where passed
The pilgrim seeking quiet.
The cold wind blew, released the glue that had bound the grime for years
And dripping on the new-washed walls fell sparkling drops of tears.
The lanterns caught the falling glint and sparked as though by trav’lers flint,
And dint of quiet took its hold,
The man progressed, his mind now bold
And halls of stone now free from mold.
With a sigh,
He breathed goodbye,
And learned what he’d been told.