He rises every day
before the sun,
thinking about
the people who will come,
What maladies they bring,
what aches and pains,
what ailments and sorrow,
He wonders
what there is
inside of him,
and if there is
inside of him,
Something
that can bring comfort to
the people who will come.
Yet when they arrive,
one by one,
or in twos or threes,
or maybe more,
He doesn't question
who he is,
or isn't,
or what he can
or cannot do,
He simply greets
the people when they come
And lets the way
find him,
the way that touches life
in every one he sees.
