Blessed are the one way ticket holders

on a one way street.

Blessed are the midnight riders

for in the shadow of God they sleep.

Blessed are the huddled hikers

staring out at falling rain,

wondering at the retribution

in their personal acquaintance with pain.

Blessed are the blood relations

of the young ones who have died,

who had not the time or patience

to carry on this earthly ride.

Rain will come and winds will blow,

wild deer die in the mountain snow.

Birds will beat at heaven's wall,

what comes to one must come to us all.



For you and I are one way ticket holders

on a one way street.

which lies across a golden valley

where the waters of joy and hope run deep.

So if you pass the parents weeping

of the young ones who have died,

take them to your warmth and keeping

for blessed are the tears they cried

and many were the years they tried.

Take them to that valley wide

and let their souls be pacified.






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