A pilgrim I, whose lonely life
Has known children, man and wife
Both young and old, and middling too
All walks of men. The false, the true,
The bad, the good. The saint and knave.
Bullies, cowards, and some brave.
Knowing all these types of men
And women, children; this I ken:
Of all I’ve known, and all I knew –
How many stayed beside me true?
I’ve spent my strength in doing deeds
To help, to give, to meet “felt needs”.
I meant for best. I worked for good.
Did I achieve the end I would?
When I would come, then did they flee
Clutching “their due”, and cursing me.
My gifts – to them “entitlement”
The giver – spurned. Away I went.
My heart’s intentions count for nil
Such grasping scum work only ill.
Did I achieve positive good?
Or only bad, whate’er I would?
A pilgrim at life’s dusty end
Will face the scales of justice. And
See his deeds, his words and thoughts,
Understand the ends he wrought.
Finally see the seeds he’s sown
And the fruit that’s finally grown.
Did I find my cosmic goal?
To my life’s purpose give my soul?
Or did I miss the mark again?
And waste my life with erring aim?
My birth – did it some purpose serve?
As death reclaims each living nerve
And I rejoin eternity:
Did I become what I should be?
Life gives no answers to my cry.
Beyond the grave the answers lie.
So follow I the path Christ trod
My answers come from only: God.