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Saturday, July 16, 2005

An Angel Reached Out

Bitter, depressed, and pitiful in general,
I roamed about the streets of life.
A puddle, my hideous soul reflected,
And added to my endless strife.

The constant pounding, merciless rain,
That drenched my world with putrid muck.
Family and friends reached out in vain.
My soul cried out for Lady Luck.

And so, on went life year after year.
My mind's suffering with no end in sight.
Pushing away those near and dear;
Master of my own piteous plight.

Of angst and rage, the story goes.
Was I not worthy to be blessed?
But as the Latin saying goes,
Ira furor brevis est.

He struck me hard! He struck me down!
His magnificient whip, its end did crack.
As I lay still, most silent sound,
My soul, its journey, long way back...

And 'twas a time of silent stupor;
A busy mind with nary a dream.
A joyous spring, its radiant promise.
A life, awakened, so it seemed.

But through the haze, a gentle finger,
Caring, bent, so loving, tender.
And soft, a voice, so pure and gentle.
In the breeze it seemed to linger.

My heart, it was never my own.
The seed of love, finally sown.
And through these blissful years of peace,
Home at last. Home sweet home.

Oh bounteous life, I thee embrace,
My vivid past, this memory doth trace.
For as I have come, so have I lived.
With my provider, His loving grace.

Now the time comes to finally rest.
My friends and family, finally blessed.
And as I close my eyes, I whisper,
"A life worth living; no more, no less."
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