Without a Home, But With a Soul
A poem that often becomes a reality (unfortunately)
God stretched out his sunny hand to him,
but not to take him to Heaven.
He was a man who didn’t know what ego was
and lived on the edge of the end.
He was a wanderer — without a home or a livelihood,
his bed a rickety old bench.
His “profession” was no punishment,
though he had a single jacket.
He was a happy man -
he didn’t know what sin was.
He had welcomed the new century
with the other homeless men he knew.
He was proud to have created,
two sons — now engineers.
Though he had survived without them,
the true joys he had found.
God reached out his sunny hand to him -
this time to take him home to Heaven.
The immortal soul shone in heaven,
for whom this wasn’t the end.
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