Old Man In A Small Road-Side Temple Poem by spiritual seeker

Under the faint street light,
In the early twilight of December,
A frail old man sat praying day upon day,
alone in a small road-side temple.
His thin body, wrapped with an old white cotton cloth,
kept the biting cold wind away.
Frail old man, eyes failing,
body swaying gently,
hands clasping tightly to his chest,
Pouring out his heart’s content,
Wailing and crying, vibrating in the cold air of the silent dawn.
Dear old man, I wonder
Has life been unkind to you?
Or is there unbearable pain in your heart?
As the days gone by, frail old man,
you were never to be seen again,
I wonder, has sickness visited you?
Or death came to your rescue?
Today, as I walked the silent cold, dimly lighted street,
To answer the call of the muazzin,
I miss your presence and intense cry,
Which has added humility to my own prayer!