by Pavel Chichikov
All the world was empty, save a small brown wren,
An oak tree with a unbound limb
And this is what it sang
Pity – save – pity – save – pity – save
Pity for a loved one saves
Who sorrows for another
As Jesus suffered high upon a tree
So I do – for you – for – you – for – you
Though all the world be empty
Those who are beloved by you are saved – are saved
For someone pities – pities them
Though all the world be empty
Visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.
