To him who has, shall it be given,
the choice of man, man now living.
Wander ye, among the thorns,
clinging he, his heart forlorn,
For a greater good, not told to man,
for man has known, yet man, has no plan.
Yet settle he, upon the earth,
feel the touch, the touch of birth,
he looks around and sees no pain,
no human pull, no human gain.
He prays ∞
A different version of this prayer – poem in a picture can be found here
Credits: Poem @ justme; Image @ CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved