Returns
Nathaniel Allen
9/17/2017-5/25/2019
The old wood carver sat on his bench
The same old way he always had
The gifts he made were world renowned
The best that ever could be found
Then one day he stepped outside
Upon his doorstep there to find
Many gifts had been returned
Some were bruised and some were burned
So tell me
Does anyone else see
The tears in his eyes
As he sadly tries
To somehow comprehend
Just how did
These people come to this
They tear and destroy
His work and his joy
In the name of convenience
And so he journeyed into town
Hailed by stones and angry shouts
The mob that gathered screamed and cried
This old man ruined their lives
Few voices rose in protest
The least of these, the ones who cared
They were silenced all the more
If they had never spoke before
So tell me
Does anyone else see
The tears in his eyes
As he sadly tries
To somehow comprehend
Just how did
These people come to this
They tear and destroy
His work and his joy
In the name of convenience
Nothing he did say could quell
Their minds made up his gifts were hell
That all he did was steal from them
But time was never theirs to spend
What seemed to puzzle him was that
Most who had received had asked
Why did they ask if they had not
Desired for the things they boughtÂ
So tell me
Does anyone else see
The tears in his eyes
As he sadly tries
To somehow comprehend
Just how did
These people come to this
They tear and destroy
His work and his joy
In the name of convenience
My father God sat on his throne
He held the world that he had wove
And there my God began to cry
There with precious stolen lives