A very fascinating man I knew
was in despair for one thing only that
he’d not yet got, but there were many who
had not yet got the thing that he stared at.
And how he stared! And how much did he do
with his left hand while his eyes knew it not!
How many interesting things he knew!
How many skills and hobbies had he got!
But none of them could count at all for him,
who only knew his lonely, cold right hand.
The best of men was made the much more grim
because he only saw what wouldn’t land.
That’s you, you know. I’m talking straight to you—
and me as well. It’s what we humans do.
~~~
And that’s a bizarre thought—but a good one—
that I’m a pilot for the soul that’s me.
That I’ve been asked by God to guard his son,
this body I control—and which I be.
I think God asked me to look over him,
this boy whose heart was far too soft for life;
but who chose anyway upon a whim
to trade God’s peace for fearful mortal strife.
He is a very good young man. I’ve seen
how heavy he becomes from little things
that have never in heaven ever been—
and how his soul, from little good things, sings.
I have my watch. And I can’t wait to meet
this boy I’ve piloted back to God’s feet.