An aging monk in simple robes
I met him on the dusty road
“Good man!” he called aloud to me
“Won’t you lend a hand? I plead!
Many have passed me by you see
and here I am with broken knee”
I looked at him, beheld his plight
He’d sat in place for many nights
His modest garb stuck to the skin
Mud and rain had pelted him
No carriage on the dusty road
had stopped to add him to their load
Can’t I simply leave him there?
This thought became a cogent snare
Many miles had I to go
with only feet to bear me so
Yet in his eyes, a trusting flint
set my heart afire
I bent
The extra weight atop my arms
I carried him from ditch to farm
And once upon my humble bed
I gave to him a piece of bread
While he ate and spoke with me
a stunning sight there I did see
He swung his feet onto the floor
and walked himself right to the door
Turning once, he said with glee
“You’ve shown me hospitality
No money in pocket do I bear
but heavenly peace is mine to share
I give it freely unto you mind
that knowledge of worth you shall ever find”
With that he turned and left the room
vanishing from my house, so soon!
In that place I stayed not long
My heart was full of joy and song
To every stranger, now I speed
and ask of them, what is your need?
ScrutinyInFaith 