Outside of a Jamaican hut, I converse with the leader
I was prepared somewhat, but I would soon need her
she'd have to calm my nerves in meeting who's inside
in this house presides, a man with lost vision in both eyes
aside from the difficulty, I would in fact try to make strides
His house resembled that of the surrounding area
with the common plight, there's resounding hysteria
blocks away, the wealthy don't share the despair with ya
magnificent hotels allow for appreciation of the beauty...
disregarding that the situation is the city's constructed duly
I start conversation with trepidation, for an answer I await
trying to create a bond, and attempt to relate with his state
the silence is broken when "I am dying" is blandly spoken
I ponder to prod questions about God and his eternity
it seems he too, would probably want to learn from me
I ask, "Are you ready?" although it seems wrong to say
I suppose he's suffering from a disease of his society...
as an effect it has in turn taken his sight away
I am shocked by his second comment "I can't wait"
this seems where he will open up, and start to debate
so happy for company, his smiles warms me
into his life he lends me a view...
"When I'm in heaven I'll see Jesus and watch over you"
Two weeks later, I found out that he had in fact died
To others it seemed strange, but it was in joy that I cried
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