Journey's End

     The night was softly falling down, its inky arms enfolding space;
The dust of days of travelling had settled on his weary face.
He gripped his staff -- he leaned upon it more and more as he grew old,
He drew his cloak about him, in his bones he felt the night turn cold.
An ache had settled in his spine, a stiffness in his legs and feet
But ever onward still he walked, his thoughts, as always, bittersweet.
     Those days of youth!  How quickly they had flown away, year after year,
And he was always moving on, no home or hearth to bring him cheer.
An outcast wandering the world, a homeless, restless vagabond.
His eyes would search the stars each night and dream of heavens far beyond
The rock that served to cushion him, the dust that was each evening's bed.
A lifetime lined his weathered face and bowed his greying, balding head.
     His eyelids twitched, his withered body trembled as a passing thought
Hinted to him of the things that time and loneliness forgot.
He shook his head, dismissed the phantom images that whispered low
Of happiness and hope, and love, of life that bloomed so long ago.
He climbed a hill, and saw a light ahead, around a gentle bend
A warmly glowing lamp that seemed to sing to him of Journey's end.
     That incandescent wonder gave him strength to speed his measured stride
His heart could almost feel the warmth that radiated from inside
The tiny house which stood alone surrounded by encroaching night.
He thought it looked like heaven, then -- that cozy cottage bathed in light.
Eyes set upon it he moved faster than he thought he could before
And soon he stood within the light and softly knocked upon the door.
 
     "Come in!  Come in, my true and honored friend
     Your time is come, you stand at Journey's End
     Look at you!  Weary, you can hardly stand
     Let me assist you with my good right hand.
     Come eat my bread, and drink my finest wine!
     Pull your chair to the fire, and recline.
     You shall be more to me than honored guest
     Here is your home, and here, at last, your rest."

     The moon rose full above the hill, the night was gripped in winter's hold
But in the house a fire blazed, he took no notice of the cold.
His eyes were slowly closing then, and spreading through each ancient bone
He felt a warmth more wonderful than any he had ever known.
A gentle touch upon his arm, he rose, and let himself be led
Half-dozing to the comfort of a blanket and a feather bed.
He slipped into the softness as his host looked on by candlelight
And slipped into the blackness of an all-pervasive velvet night.
Then in the doorway to his room The Father joined His only Son,
And whispered to the sleeping form "Rest well, my precious child.  Well done."

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