As I wandered along the old Highway
To my home at the end of the day;
I saw the Church with its heavenward spire,
Behind it the Sun that celestial fire.
Silhouetted over the graveyard wall
Were stone markers ornate and tall;
This scene before me, in just a blink,
I became aware and began to think.
Of all those people once as I,
Behind that wall there to lie;
Awaiting the Judgment as they must,
Decay reducing their forms to dust.
I could see those beings in my dream,
In life both of high and low esteem;
Remembered by tombstones small and great,
Some with none at all, or of lowly slate.
There lies my friend, ‘Old John’ the Tramp
A gentleman of the road in sun or damp;
Now no material wealth had he
As he ate my food it was plain to see.
But he was rich within his mind,
Of Earth’s adornment he was not blind;
Also laid there near him beside,
Is a man I knew of wealth and pride.
Of nature’s mantle he was unaware
And the poor or needy he didn’t care;
With his cunning and treachery complete,
He felt fulfilled, success was sweet.
Now there he lies in the same estate,
Of who was the better, there’s no debate;
It must be him who trod the road
And sometimes called at my abode.
Monty Alexander 5.5.96