by Randy Chambers, 2004-08-04
He was a scrawny man to meet. But in his heart a host of strength and charity stood
tall. Though few would ever notice itand fewer still would hesitate to look his way
His time worn face, fashioned by events his eyes had seen, could with each wrinkle write
an epic taleand hold a treasure for any who might stop to hearand then from
wisdoms fount to glean.
But not so much is new beneath the sun. The fading wealth of wisdoms fold goes
unseen as passersby to some importance run.
His eyesthey hold deep reflections of times life seemed a dreamas well as
times of heartbreak, loss, and all that life can muster in a moments misery.
His spotted hands, gray head, and wrinkled brow once seen a crown of glory, nownow
despisedseen as frailty and loss of youth.
His time is short, and in this is our test. Will we seek to reap from what his life has
sown? Or will days dwindle on until all he has to give is lostwith all hes