The Traveler

I met a man, a traveler, and walked with him awhile. A mighty man, an aged man, who showed me many things, and I did weep when we did part; I went my way and he went his. I pray we’ll meet again, but something whispers in my soul, “We walk this way but once.” But once is too magnificent to cry, “too small!” when nothing may have been, and something too is precious that no encore will be called. But one life I may live, this one is all, and in this life I hope I give my all.