The Old Man's Walk

Every day he takes his walk,
The old, old man with the cane.
Bent and feeble, yet searching intently the eyes of all who pass,
For by their eyes he will know
When to take his walk no more.

Little Boy, You've Been Hurt

Little boy, you’ve been hurt, you are bleeding.
Your father must help you walk to the doctor,
And you have trouble breathing.

You are so frightened that you can’t cry,
Though you try with all your might.

You fell off your bicycle—
You really shouldn’t have been riding it so fast down the hill, you know,
No matter how exciting the parade was.

But you will not die.
You will live to ride your bike again,
And to fall off again and be hurt many times in many ways.

But you will also live to experience the thrill
Of riding down the hill too fast again in the excitement of the parade.

I feel your hurt and your fear now
For I, too, have fallen victim
To the excitement of the parade.

The Devil's Weakness

I thought it somehow unique, that I was able to beat the devil that would have at my soul, not by strength of will, but by out-running him--by feigning, as on a football field, then out—running him around end. For a moment I know that the devil was a human, not a divine, thing. Though it seemed to sap my entire strength, I beat him, and I knew that I would then live. It was as if a slow—moving animal of the plains suddenly discovered that he could outrun his lion pursuer; he would no longer fear to stand and eat.