by Roger Lesser

"When I was young I always asked —
When and how and what and why?
How many stars? Why skylarks sing?
How far away the sky?

When I grew up I did not like
The questions youth asked me:
How can I know the truth of God?
How solve his mystery?

When will the world have justice?
When will the world see peace?
How can a loving God allow
Cruelty to increase?

Now I am old; my hair is white;
I totter on the brink.
No questions come to taunt me now.
I only have to think. . . .

Where will I go, when I go?
What will happen to me?
What is salvation, nirvana, moksha?
What then will I see?

A voice comes through the cloud ahead —
A voice so clear and true —
'Relax, my friend, my dear old friend,
I will take care of you.'

So now I do not ask or wonder,
I do not even think.
I just relax in his dear arms,
From his sweet peace I drink."