THE GOOD MAN

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Copper Bowl)

The good man, I tell you, is like a raindrop.

He will blend with the rest in a stream.

With a warm coat to share, and a bite not to stop,

To be God’s helping hand in a dream.

The good man, I tell you, has no gold in the bank.

No chauffeur drives his car down the line.

But within his own life, not of wealthiest rank,

Sunlit glances from his eyes always shine.

The good man, I tell you, can never be broken.

A tough branch is his spirit for years.

If he trusts an idea, by deeds it is spoken.

And succeeds... the good man through his tears.

The good man, I tell you, when giving, won’t lose.

By self-interest he’s never restrained.

In deep mercy for life, it is love he will choose,

With no tax for the deeds he sustained.

The good man, I tell you, is sowing his seeds.

He won't turn his eyes back to the past.

If a drop is still missing to answer our needs —

He will pour it, and streams will flow fast...

The good man, I tell you, needs no power or might.

He is power himself. Impulse, alive.

Even if his own fate should grow dark as the night —

In his faith he will happily thrive.

The good man, I tell you, inside me rejoices.

And awakes within you too, right now?

For the brightest of meanings, in all human voices,

Is to stop every pain with a bow.