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As I waited for the train,
During a relentless rain.
I saw a man, who seemed so old,
Standing outside in the cold.
"Can I sit here? Do you care?"
He said pointing to a chair.
"I'm so weary from my walk.
I would like to rest and talk."
Gesturing without a look,
My face buried in a book.
"Be my guest," I did reply,
Hoping he might just pass by.
"You're too young to be forlorn.
What could cause you such a thorn?"
His voice trembled and was weak.
It seemed an effort just to speak.
I scoffed a one word answer, "Why?"
I turned and looked him in the eye.
"I don't believe we've ever met.
I'm in control, that you can bet."
"If control is your desire
You will struggle through the mire."
His voice could not be ignored,
"You should learn to trust the Lord."
I put the book down in my lap,
"I resent this holy trap!
I did not ask for your advice."
My glare, I felt, was cold as ice.
"You feel trapped by your own fate,
So Christ, you think you must berate."
He raised a hand up in the air,
"But don't worry, He is there."
"I think you don't care how I feel.
Your empathy just isn't real."
I could not dodge that look of his,
"I like my life the way it is!"
"But what of God?" queried the man.
"You don't believe his loving plan?
Do you not seek eternal life?
Why do you wallow in your strife?
"You bore me now, please go away.
You wasted too much of my day!
I'm sure you're worried for my soul,
But I know that I'm in control."
"I fear your ego makes you blind,
But I pray the way you'll find."
Then he walked into the rain,
I never saw that man again.
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