when wait turns into devotion,
the patience into perseverence
the tears dry leaving no trace
the memories take over every station
life then assumes a purpose
the flowers become fragrance
and the eyes a gateway to passion
for meanings, that are obscure today
but will change some thing on the way
when i will not be there any more
footprints will find difficult to endure
you will have to carry the missions forward
so what, if i wouldnot be able to call it absurd
curiosity, concern, compassion and collaboration
When you’ll not be there
leaving your missions bare
who will carry them forward
should it now be your care?
one wonders who they’ll cherish
the parishioner or the parish…
It so happens always
years or months or days
are tabulations of ways
you’ve defined your bays
your mountains your caves…
each according to his reservoir
pledges to the human pyre
will the man, will his mission,
or will his memory inspire
just leave it to their own desire…
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