Yeah... I wrote this little poem, and posted it a couple of places. Realized I hadn't posted it here... and I'm in the mood to share, the only insights into it I've had are that 1) apparently its an entertaining narrative, and 2) Its a metaphor for some part of the bible or other- and hey, I'm not going to try and tell people what to read into it! So... yeah, enjoy!
The Resounding Maybe
Whenever he old man speaks
The children gather round
To receive the pearls of wisdom
He scatters on the ground.
The ask him many questions
Though his answers may never change
He speaks from long experience
And the response is always the same.
The children ask of his long life
Of his lost loves and of his joys
They sit listening in rapt awe
Be they girls or boys.
The questions are quite difficult
Although he never slows
As his answer is stated readily
Because he always knows.
"It the outside world large, Grandpa?"
A little girl may cry
And his smile never changes
And his answer will never die.
"Is the ourside world small?!"
Another will demand
And the old man whispers his answer
Whilst taking the askers hand.
"Will the crops come this Summer
as they always have before?"
Asks a hardy lttle boy
And the old man doesn't pause.
The village does have doubters
Those who decry his help
And these people never see
The truth that is always felt.
The children are ever loyal
As they look in the old mans eye
They see the spark of wisdom
Of a man who is still a boy.
Childlike in his simplicity
And in his words and acts
His wisdom is undeniable
Though he doesn't speak in facts.
Adults deny his knowledge
And call him a liar and fool
They mock and they insult him
But he does not lose his cool.
For though the answer is frustrating
The honest are never shady
There is a glimmer in his eye as he speaks
That ever-sacred maybe.
The Resounding Maybe
Whenever he old man speaks
The children gather round
To receive the pearls of wisdom
He scatters on the ground.
The ask him many questions
Though his answers may never change
He speaks from long experience
And the response is always the same.
The children ask of his long life
Of his lost loves and of his joys
They sit listening in rapt awe
Be they girls or boys.
The questions are quite difficult
Although he never slows
As his answer is stated readily
Because he always knows.
"It the outside world large, Grandpa?"
A little girl may cry
And his smile never changes
And his answer will never die.
"Is the ourside world small?!"
Another will demand
And the old man whispers his answer
Whilst taking the askers hand.
"Will the crops come this Summer
as they always have before?"
Asks a hardy lttle boy
And the old man doesn't pause.
The village does have doubters
Those who decry his help
And these people never see
The truth that is always felt.
The children are ever loyal
As they look in the old mans eye
They see the spark of wisdom
Of a man who is still a boy.
Childlike in his simplicity
And in his words and acts
His wisdom is undeniable
Though he doesn't speak in facts.
Adults deny his knowledge
And call him a liar and fool
They mock and they insult him
But he does not lose his cool.
For though the answer is frustrating
The honest are never shady
There is a glimmer in his eye as he speaks
That ever-sacred maybe.