People going, the wind blowing dust across a grace-parched land…
A lone soul, walks wearily through the land, a threadbare
Jacket protecting against the wind, the dust, the hurt
Spread out cross the vast, dry Mexican plain.
All around, people go here and there, directions to nowhere
Their destinations of choice—filled with hurt, pain,
From a divine relationship broken beyond hope of repair.
The lone man, unnoticed by most, rambles on, slowly, a
Destination laid out from foundation of time, no hurry
It seems, against backdrop of eternity.
The sound of voices, children’s, float lazily on afternoon
Air, belaying the urgency of love’s design, as a
Soccer ball flies through the air.
Yet He walks on. Not time in His plan of things to come. Yet
He prays for children, so young, unaware of Father’s love.
His pace quickens, unseen by all, as a lone dog, a stray, barks
A voice of hunger, echoing the spiritual thirst of dying world.
All around Him creation groans, SCREAMS, of hurts, of pain, of
Death’s eternal grip on long lost souls of this world.
Yet He walks on. Tears fill His aged eyes, as love seems ripped
From His soul—the coat pulled tighter still.
He stops, a moment, no more, as if sensing a smell of
Sin-soaked death upon gentle breeze; continues on.
He listens, He walks, as He talks with Father alone—a communion
So sweet, He knows—ignored, rejected, available to all.
Yet He walks on. A crying baby, pierces the sky—the air—down
To His soul. A physical hunger born of poverty’s despair.
A bus passes by, filled with souls; a few He knows. Oh, how He
Longs to know them all—His heart aches for those lost—ALONE!
His eyes search the sky, a sign He’s almost there—evil presses in, yet
Does not dare invade His space—His holiness divine.
Yet He walks on. A journey so divine. His heart quickens, so in tune
With Father’s will called out from heaven above.
Humanity, all alone in busiest of streets, of towns, goes passing
By, each soul a precious reminder of sacrifice that paid the price—
Ignorant of grace come down, each life hurries on, scurries past the
One that brings life; victories death—hurt no more.
Yet He walks on. A mission from above lived out below—divine
Appointment at the intersection of life—at holy time.
One lone soul cries out for touch, divine, complete brokenness in
Order to make whole—so together, yet all alone.
That lone soul, he searches on, looking for a purpose, a reason for
A life, so wasted it seems, on passions of this world.
Yet He walks on. Destination closer still. His journey’s end
Marks beginning of life for all around.
He cries His tears of joy as horizon brings to focus His journey,
His destination soul to capture once again.
The lone soul looks up, drawn once again to a love divine,
he lost somewhere amongst a ministry to Him.
Yet He walks on. Drawing closer still. Eyes meet—eternal
Capturing those of such a shattered soul.
A life laid bare—walls broken down all around—as piece
By piece He peers deep into my soul.
I cry out, missing now that grace of the One divine, as it
Reaches to my heart, my soul—worship now my God!
Yet He walks on—now by my side. “Unclean!” I realize now—
He clothes me in His righteousness of praise.
A life restored, mine, through sacrifice of His upon that
Cursed cross that brings life blessed—eternal kind.
Praise flows to know that my Creator chose—He loves me
So—dressed now in pure white—His robes.
Yet we walk on. So much hurt He shows as now I see
Through eyes of God—divine—lost souls—He knows.
People going, the wind blowing dust across a grace-parched land…
