Skies so Dark a poem I wrote in Nov 2010

http://voices.yahoo.com/skies-so-dark-7302782.html?cat=10



Skies so Dark

The air so heavy, soiled and dark
Words spoken softly to another, as the fire dwindles, and night covers the park.

 

 

 

Sitting on a bench watching the city lights twinkle, seeing no stars
The buildings so tall, the streets filled with many colorful lights, and many passing cars --



Sitting alone watching as the twilight gives way to the nights twinkling lights.
Listening to the parents begin to call, each child home, soon the pigeons take their flights.



Silence begins to sound, as the night settles in, coolness takes away the days' warmth and shine.
Lifting eyes Heavenward the lone soul wonders if this evening will be the day the table will be set, in Heaven to dine.



Shifting weary feet the lone soul begins to rise, from the bench that is near the edge of the park.
The police man's walking the night shift, suggest it's time to go home, as it's long past dark.


 
Sighing, the lone soul agrees, but where, oh where to go?
No friends to call upon, no family to name, and no earthly home, but the weary pilgrim just smiles and says, "it's getting quite late I know" --



Walking away the weary traveler walks away, whistling a song of days long ago --
The policeman watches to make sure the lonesome soul continues along, as it's his job to keep the streets clear, neat and clean you know.



The night shadows grow long the night sounds echo through the streets, and still the weary feet walk.
Walking, walking no place to sit, no place to lie down, no place to call home, walking finding but one with which to talk.



No fleshly hand, no companion contained within an earthly clay vessel with which to commune.
Many weary days already long past, the lone soul speaks aloud to the man who made the sun, stars and moon.



Gently a faithful hand reaches down lifting the fallen lonesome soul from the clay vessel.
The soul that had no place, no home, now in Heaven will forever dwell.



My dear friend, look at the one sitting by the way side, see their pain, see their tears, see their soul.
The one who you mock, my dear friend it could have been you, take time my dear friend for soon we'll hear that call, the final row.



Everyone has a soul, the rich man, beggar man, thief, and even the homeless sitting over yonder on in the darkened park.
Take time to listen, take time to care, for my dear we are not all God's children, though indeed we are all His creation, if His love you know, will you not to another pass along a kind remark.



My dear, you see the rags, you see the well-polished suit, and you see the outside.
But my dear, it is the inside, that matters, the inside that reveals soon where one day the ever living soul will reside.



Speak softly my friend for the one you see over yonder, it could be you.
Life and circumstance cruelty unknown to you, perhaps, another must travels by way of many trials, a journey filled with rue.



Remember the song; remember the words, "some through the fire, some through the waters, some through great sorrows, but all through the blood.
My dear He's reaching out His hand to you, reaching out that you may find your way through to Him, through to His saving blood.