Follow Me
You’re hanging over a precipice,
looking down; you know you are going to fall.
At the last moment, a hand grasps yours.
A stranger whom you cannot see.
Slowly they haul you from your fate to be.
Their face you still cannot see,
but their words echo around you,
come on my brother follow me.
Foot holds come one at a time,
safety is now assured.
Slowly you move upwards,
one-step at a time along the way.
At the top the stranger is waiting,
his face blocked by the sun.
His voice is gentle and serine,
come on my brother follow me
You climb to your feet and follow,
as he begins to lead the way.
In his footsteps, you follow,
each and every day.
You learn things with every step.
You learn to have humility,
with everyone to you chance to meet,
a lesson well learnt and greet.
You still hear his words,
come on my brother follow me,
you still have a lot to learn,
and I have little time to teach thee.
You follow him through dangerous paths,
but no ill falls upon you.
You follow him until your dying day,
and into the next life to.
And, all the time his words,
they seem to follow you,
come on my brother follow me.
You walk where he walks,
and see what he sees,
and when its time to part,
his words are still with you,
come on my brother follow me.
poem by David Harris
Added by Poetry Lover
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