A narrative poem about an old man's lesson about loving yourself and others enough to accept their care, and reciprocate it as well.
An old man walks a darkened road,
Searching for a place,
To build a new abode.
His town was destroyed,
In one war or another.
And he cannot avoid,
The violence of his brothers.
He's been walking far too long,
Riding the wind just like a song.
He's been robbed and beaten down,
But he does not wear a frown.
He knows it will get better,
In a matter of time.
Despite all this bad weather,
He knows he will be fine.
This is a tale,
Of finding himself.
So old and frail,
Yet refused any help.
This is how he found a home,
How he came to know his peace.
But he cannot find it alone,
So walk along his road with me...
He had been walking for twenty years,
Afraid to stop and stay.
His fellow men had made his fears,
In dark as well as lighted day.
On the road he had wandered,
For far too long,
He had often pondered,
Where life had gone so wrong.
He'd started out so happy,
With his family and friends.
But war came so distracting,
And brought his life to an end.
They had taken his life,
And all those he held close.
His sadness had been rife,
And it was the road he chose.
The greif he held inside,
Was deep and unrelenting.
But his foolish pride,
Left him broken and dissenting.
He would not let himself,
Be seen as weak or low.
So he put his sadness on the shelf,
And did not let himself grow.
As he walked his lonely road,
Through years and years of trudging,
His heart just wanted to explode,
But his pride was not budging.
He was taken by bandits,
And robbed by soldiers.
He was tired and empty-handed,
His shoulders like boulders.
