From the bowel that wash to the basin that rinse
He could remember the passion in pains;
The test of wounds and healings that came
The mockries that blessed his face
The rise of fear and hardship that became
But all with courage he faced.
He had better ran the race,
As nights he counted days
While In the heart of friends he lost his place
They Ignored, over and over it became the game.
And oft the street boys do, he did the same,
Ah! Pretty later for little he had gone insane!
Though faces of good people he never misplaced.
The test of life had taught him the part to trace
No one survives when lack mercy and grace.
He felt for love, forgive and set the pace
And he sang the song of how hope was lost and found again.
©Cyrilz
