I saw a stranger on the street.
Not from birth did I know him.
Yet I looked into his eyes of years,
Reflecting paradise in their flickers.
The journey left him tired soles
10,000 steps from Heaven.
Though I gazed upon this vagabond,
I cannot say I knew him.
His ruddy face was commonplace,
Worn, earthy garments out of sorts.
For the age and day he present stood
His tongue was soft and slow.
With my keenest trepidation now
I studied close this stranger.
Closer I was drawn to him,
His countenance now familiar.
And from his foreign mouth words fell,
“My daughter, you’re forgiven.”