The Ranger
Over the hills and mountains beyond,
Living next to a shimmering pond,
Was a ranger with his sliver steed,
And to every call, he would take heed.
In the time of distress and trouble,
And in the late hour of pain,
Would stir the slumbering sage,
And put him into an uncontrollable rage.
Rise he would, to adorn his mighty pack,
And ride to aid without any tack,
His selfless deeds towards his race ran amok,
Never even ignoring the village flock.
This fevered frenzy did so last,
Till over 40 years had past,
His very own thoughts evaded his clutch
To lift a finger would cost him very much
When the hooves of the mare, were heard no more,
These signs, the village folk could not ignore,
Set out, they did, to find the cause of delay
Determined as iron, to drive it away.
The long journey didn’t cause any pain,
But from sight of the afflicted, it did not abstain,
Stayed the men, till his pulse wore out,
And the signs of his passing, shifted from doubt,
Brought him back to the village where the flowers bloom,
And buried him there within a marble tomb,
Put an epitaph over his head, “Here lies
Our Savior, for us he will never die"
