St. Francis



The softest touch

Reveals so much

The heart of wonder

Rolling thunder

Peels back the sky

Opens his eyes

In the black of night

Without a fright

He walks with the creatures

Sharing their features

And the town’s people sleep

In their dreams they keep

Their little lives going

Steadily rowing

Through doubt and confusion

Not knowing illusion

Has them ensnared

They haven’t a care

For the world that he sees

The air that he breathes

They don’t see his moon

Perhaps he’s too soon

Ahead of his time

His vision sublime

Does it set him apart?

No, he sees their hearts

They’re the same as him

And one day they’ll begin

To slowly awaken

A faint choice is taken

To surrender to life

Give up strife

A willingness dawns

To cease being pawns

In the tyrant’s game

The tyrant whose name

Is money and greed

Race and creed

Division and lust

Hatred, mistrust

Ah, they’re all the same

Every little flame

We come to know so well

In our little hells

Until we hear the word

Find ourselves assured

That there is something more

Worth looking for

And all who seek shall find

And all sorrows unwind


His footsteps are soft

And his vision is true

The animals know him

As we know him too

Because knowing is deeper

Than our shallow perceptions

Before there was time

There were already connections

Between brothers and sisters

And the source of all being

Eternally bound

And yet knowledge is freeing

The saints point the way

Up the ladder of Heaven

Some have much to say

Others speak with their actions

But the truth lies within

Past opinion and spin

With an open heart

Perhaps we can start

To take down our defenses

Drop pretenses

And when the hour is kind

I’m sure we will find

That the softest touch

Reveals so much




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