The Visitor

“I Entered A Room So Grand, With An Hourglass Of Passing Sand”

It seemed I was always tired, and unable to find rest

Like a struggle within, of children calling me to do things I

Was unable to do by myself _

A candle in the window burns

In the eve, as I knock faintly,

Then turn to leave,

Then the handle of the

Door begins to turn and a

Voice invites me in, guiding

Me through a hallway,

Dark and grey,

There are pictures on the wall,

Almost as if they are of me, from

A small child to a girl, now

Grown and tall,

Another door before me opens,

As I slowly peer in, there is a

Room so grand with an hourglass

Of passing sand,

A chair sits in the middle and I

Take a seat,

There are little ones and I ask them

To come near that we may meet,

Marching by, they are forlorn,

With garments ripped and torn,

Each bearing a pail of memories,

Looking at them I realize they are

A part of me,

I give them love, wash their faces

And clean their shoes, but these

Things are not enough and will

Not do,

They respond, “please, we are

Tired and would find peace and

Rest, letting go of your anxious

Thoughts would be best.”

I now see these children I have

Ignored, have been with me

Through life’s tests,

Now it is time, as they ask, to

Give them rest!

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