10 September 2012
I walked along a busy street, An old man just sat and prayed. This man seemed wise and caring, I could see it in his gaze.
He told the busy passers by The things he'd learnt and seen. Offered them his knowledge, Small facts on where he'd been.
I went as sat beside him, He told me of his life. A slum dog raised in India, A world of sadness and strife.
"always on the run," he said, "no place to call my home." He ran this race all by himself, No family to call his own.
He worked his way up to the top, A man with cash to spare, His life seemed back on track again, Until things became unfair.
Although this man is poor today, His years still left are few, He told me he had no regrets, "as I have a story to tell you."
His knowledge made me think a while Of how my life could be, Full of experience and memories, Not restrained and always free.
This man will sit there everyday, Though few will stop to hear, His story turned my world around, I now live with no fears.
by vera©
Knowledge • Opuss № I