Proverbs 1

A sullen, wounded giant weeps alone.
No one comes for counsel, no one to atone.
They’ve gone away.

He sought them, wrought them, taught them, at his knees
They learned to pray. He’d hold them and scold them,
Mold them in the way.

He washed their ears and cuffed them, begged them to
Obey, he comforted, rebuffed them, and
Sent them out to play,

Where they wandered and they wavered and they
Wouldn’t heed His calls, and they fled toward a
Lighter,  brighter day.

‘Till they didn’t see they’d run in their frolic
And their fun down a darker track that brought
Them hard to bay

At a yawning, hungry chasm washed in
Winds that smell of death, shrieking, moaning at
The sight of fresh prey.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Now all is quiet. Night’s departing, taking
With it muffled cries lest broken-hearted
Sighs the snares betray.

For surely at day’s ending when dark shadows
Reach and bend over paths carefully
Wove to lead astray,

Other fools will race and revel in their
Riotous array down roads to where
Eternal sorrows lay.

And the sullen wounded giant gloats alone.
“Serves ‘em right” he growls and chuckles. “I told
‘em they would pay.”

But he chuckles through his tears, lights his warming
Fires and peers in the gloom for searching
Souls who’ll come and stay.

And the watching, waiting giant weeps alone.