How The Heavens Blessed be

Oh how the Heavens blessed be;
As I sit here under this old Oak tree.
I have no home to call my own;
And the stench of my body the wind has blown.
The cleansing of God the wind is now;
And the light of the sunshine through every bough;
Is my lamp that Heaven gives me to see;
The wondrous world that has forgotten me.

My body aches from the elements of earth.
The soil and dust gives me a look of swarth.
My eyes are red and have dark rings.
A feel of weariness that a hard life brings.

I live life begging for my next meal.
If only the world knew how I feel.
I sleep on the ground with a blanket in tatters.
My life is obscure, but none of it matters;
To the rich and the people who live in comfort.
But it does matter in the halls of Heaven's court.

My future is bleak and my mind drifts often;
To my imaginary world where my heavy thoughts soften;
And I can be me again; that that I was.
Instead of the poor man I am, because;
I still have faith that my world will turn;
Into a better life without concern.

My life seems so faraway though;
Now that my former life cannot grow
But how the Heavens blessed be;
As I sit here under this old oak tree