We are slaves, sometimes willing,
of another slave who was always willing.
He willed a world of beauty and of love.
We willed that those who had been blessed
would be commensurately generous.
He willed that old people
would learn the way of delight
from their children;
that we who are of middle years
might learn wisdom from those
who had reflected deep and long;
and that children might learn the way of peace
from those who had passed
through the time of struggle.
He willed that the blind
might see clearly with their hearts;
that the deaf might hear the deep calling
of their strange and silent God;
that the dumb might song a song, true
and without words;
that the lame might gavotte
in life’s abundant dance.
He willed that we might follow,
as love’s obedient slaves;
with pain and sweat and tears and joy,
until it is done,
© Ken Rookes