A Poor, Wayfaring Man of Grief, Part 4
A poor, wayfaring man of grief, has shared his truth with me,
For he has walked the winding road of life's great mystery,
Behold, the man, the truth at last, is ready to be shared,
His message is for one and all, his banquet is prepared.
The happiness, that people seek, is not a faster pace,
Our emptiness, may reach a peak, without a plaster face,
The truth is not a new belief, or some mythology,
A poor, wayfaring man of grief, is very real to me.
Yet happiness, is common, in a craven sort of clash,
The natural man, rejects the plan, but not the petty cash,
And those who build a fortune, are the breed of our success,
For those who need a portion, have to bleed for happiness.
For happiness is how we care, a sacrifice for good,
A sumptuous feast that we prepare, by living as we should,
A by-product of our success, in what we say and do,
A blessing in the way we bless, our friends and neighbors too.
But by-products are not the aim, the purpose that we share,
Fulfillment is the greater good, the reason that we care,
If money is the welcome mat, a portal people seek,
Then happiness is growing fat, a flavor of the week.
So here we are, and here it is, the purpose of a man,
And happiness, though good for us, is still an also-ran,
The purpose of humanity, collectively, I know,
Is feed the soul with kindness and with love to make it grow.
For this reward of loving, is the quality of joy,
And joy is the fulfillment of the gifts that we employ,
Happiness is fleeting but our joy goes on and on,
Like morning dew is fading, but the green is on the lawn.
A poor, wayfaring man of grief, has taught these truths to me,
The sun and moon and stars above are less than even He,
I know him for the one he is by how he makes me feel,
For even when I slip and fall I know his love is real.
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