A longer poetic essay with a message and a deeper meaning!
I first saw Him at this Bazaar, when I was very young.
Disguised as but a simple merchant man, He was,
Yet even then, I knew this One,
Instantly, I knew Him for what and whom
He truly was, as is.
And, not just me, but others, many, many, others too,
Those who chose to see, saw;
And at once they also knew, and
Had no dealings with this One.
I have seen Him many, many times since.
But, always there were others, those others
Who never guessed His nature.
Never once had thought at all, or sought at all,
To question why, or what He truly is and wants of them.
This One never bargains; not at all.
Not this One; nor does He protest any offer.
He simply pays whatever price those
With whom He deals demand.
He pays and pays and pays!
As though it corresponded perfectly,
With His most ultimate of aims.
And when done, they all leave smiling; laughing.
All so quite content to have taken
Such advantage of this One.
Yet, what shocks me most
In these, these latter days,
Is that so many, many, simply
Give to Him the thing He craves.
These precious, priceless pearls to me,
Seems valueless and inconvenient to them.
And they are glad to part with so burdensome a thing.
Though as always, He would happily have paid
To gain it from them, instead He gets it free.
And they never watch, never notice,
The care with which He places
These pearls within His strong built box.
Or, how He smiles; how He always smiles.
As though, He knows a thing no other does.
From Him, some demand
Wonders grand beyond belief.
Others - much, much lesser things.
Though in the end, all seem such
Useless and unimportant things.
At least, that is how they seem to me.
Yet, whatever they desire,
He pays; always He pays.
Still, occasionally He draws near
To those who think like me.
Those still too well armed from head to toe.
Too forewarned of so dangerous a Foe.
(For a thorn must be a thorn, and lives
But to smite the lover of the rose.
Regardless of how lovely the package is
In which it may choose to go.)
And so, by these (and by me) He is told
“Thief I know you all too well - now go.”
And He smiles and goes, while answering
“Another time perhaps, perhaps another time;
I have time, time I have; I shall come back to you in time,
In time I shall come back; maybe in some other guise
More pleasing; or more misleading,
And perhaps then, then perhaps, who knows.”
Then on to others, He goes.
Always, there are others.
Some old; some new and having just come.
And also some preparing to depart soon,
Though knowing not at all what or where to.
To these new ones He is very drawn.
These and those soon leaving.
Them He most pursues.
Offering them anything; everything.
But never, ever bargaining.
Gladly giving them
Whatsoever they choose.
As if in the end, somehow
He knew that those with whom
He deals, must ultimately lose.
And, He’ll have all.
All he gave to them, returned to Him,
A hundredfold, or more!
Remarkably, I’ve noticed though,
That every now and then,
Approach Him one or two
With whom He’s dealt.
Who seem bolder now;
Who seem much wiser now.
They are not willing to discuss,
Or barter or listen, but demand now.
With a power and conviction
That is clearly not their own, but
Loaned from ONE with whom
This One has dealt before.
Yet, whom He does not dare
And could not bear to risk
A second such confrontation with.
Having once thought with such confidence,
To have won all things and in less than
Those three days of seeming victory,
To lose forever, more that could be dreamed.
And regardless of how long ago, still
So great a loss can not be overcome, not ever!
And when they state
“We know you now;
Return what you have stolen.”
He does so and at once, as if
The words had spoken.
Yet departing from them, He whispers
“Another time perhaps,
Perhaps another time,
I have time, time I have, and so
I shall come back to you in time,
In time, I shall come back.
In some other guise more pleasing
Or, more misleading.
Perhaps then, we can deal, then perhaps.
But, for now I shall go
To where the others are.
For I have time, time still I have.
Though, not much more, I fear.
For I hear, that time is running out,
For this Bazaar.