The Tale of the Stranger

Far on the misty deserted street,
The street lights were dimly lit,
And Darkness on his sleeping children
Pulled on a heavy quilt.

'Let them sleep, the poor souls he thought', he thought
And even thought the Stranger
On the misty deserted street,
'Did anyone know that Darkness ever breathed?'

A strange stranger the Stranger was
Walking through the mist.
For who ever so strange?
That knew the sorrows of the world
With none of its members amiss.

The Stranger knew the sorrows of Darkness
And how he was shunned for the mighty sun.
When his children found solace in him
But still they sought the sun.

Yet he calls them 'sweet children of mine',
And draws the quilt over them
When the clock does chime.
He knew in him they were born
To him they will return,
And so he kept quiet.

And Drakness whispered this sad tale
To the Stranger walking in the misty night.

Then the breeze breezed through,
Telling another sad tale,
Of a little birdie on a tree, forlorn and free.

She had been left by her mate,
Because of something she had said,
She wished she hadn't said it
But he had flown away.

She flew to him
But he asked her to stay.
He flew away alone,
He flew faraway.

And then the little birdie fell on the clay.
She had let herself fall,
She had not used her wings,
She had not made a sound.

The little birdie had died
And all the Stranger did was smile.

And now you all wonder
Why the Stranger was there?
Because he relays to God
This world's sad affairs.

God sometimes listened, sometimes did not.
For He had created man,
The bigest mistake He had made
When He formed the world's plan.

The Stranger never thanked God
But today he prepared his vote of thanks.
Clearing his throat, he said:
'Thank you God, I am not in your world
Thank you I am not dying".