As I walked o’er the street the other years;
My thoughts were close to tears.
I was engaged in a bit of self-pity;
I was engulfed by my cares and fears;
It seemed my skies were oh so gray;
My mind-it dwelt on sorrow;
I dreaded the dawning of each new day;
Could find not a joy for the morrow.
It seemed I was alone in grief;
None were so hard hit as I;
And then I did a funny thing;
I stopped and watched each passer-by;
And there were some who wore a happy smile.
It just seemed to hide a tear;
And many years were the crippled;
And the sickly that did appear.
One poor soul came by crutch;
With one arm gone as well;
And when I saw his peaceful face;
It made tears within me swell.
Shivering, shabby and hungry folks passed;
The wealthy came in view;
And it seemed as if the whole populated;
Could use some pity, too.
Seems such a long life of weeks, months, and years;
Of laughter, happiness, sorrow and tears;
We seem to be waiting, for what-we know not;
We are searching for something that cannot be bought.
We think that we’ve found it in some glorious hour;
Yet it will not last, Tis but a fast dying flower.
And we wonder and ask “Is it for this that we live?”
And no one, ’tis true, the right answer can give.
For who are we to question or doubt?
The ways of this world-what’s is all about?
We are living again as did folks long ago;
And ever and ever, ’twill always be so.
Have you ‘ere stood in a graveyard and thought;
Of the people there buried and the things that they sought?
They were once living people as you and as I;
Living and waiting till their time came to die.
And we all must go, the strong with the weak.
Aye! Perhaps then and only then will we find that which we seek.