Shaman

In a cave, there dwells a man,
Who heals the soul like no one can,
His method works, and many find,
New strength of soul, and peace of mind,
And when the day is spent and done,
When bodies soak the dying sun,
He ponders how it all began,
This gentle, unassuming man,
He has no life apart from this,
He feels great joy, though tastes no kiss,
No sons to dance around his feet,
No tender maid, his flesh to meet,
But just to heal within his cave,
In fair exchange for alms they gave.

While lying in his cave one night,
His eyes beheld a fearsome sight,
To fix his gaze upon the fire,
Of Ancient Master to inquire,
His mind remembers words he spoke,
They dance with faces in the smoke,
And there he knows, with joy divine,
That he is of a different kind,
A race of beings upon the Earth,
A wondrous tribe, of noble birth,
Who live their lives devoid of care,
Extending hands to lift despair,
Removes the rubble from our lives,
Transmutes our sorrow, wipes our eyes.

The folks who wander here and there,
Feeling lost in great despair,
He himself does reach inside,
Removes their splinters, calms their tide,
He wipes away their pains of life,
And cuts their bonds of guilt and strife,
Then walks away from those he helps,
Without a thought about himself,
This, the lonely Shaman's call,
living life behind a wall,
No excuse for who he is,
We can't deny the help he gives,
So we must simply be content,
To just accept this noble gent,
And understand that in this world,
Among the the stones there lives a pearl,
So lets place our judgment on the shelf,
And receive the healing of ourself.