He walked alone along the cliffs,
Beside a fence of wooden beams.
His feet trod softly on the path.
His head was lost in dreams.
He was a man of lofty thought,
Though few had heard him speak.
To him all things had consequence,
To be found by those who seek.
So when he spied along the way,
A crossbeam lying loose and free.
He paused to ponder what it meant.
Knowing if he sought he'd see.
What could it mean, this gap?
This hole, this rent, this breach?
What good now was the rest?
When to us, through this, our foes would reach.
A fence, he saw, was much like faith.
The strength on which we do depend.
Like fences, faith must be unbroken.
What good's a fence you can't defend?
But nothing weathers every storm.
A garden cannot go untended.
The things we need must be looked after.
A fence, when broken, must be mended.
So why then had this not been done?
Beneath the crossbeam, grass lay pale.
Why had no one fixed the hole?
Not closed the window in a gale?
Perhaps, he thought, it's not enough,
To simply walk and think and see.
Perhaps when something must be done,
We should take responsibility.
At this he chuckled to himself.
What chance was there that others would,
Not only seek to help themselves,
But serve the common good?
Well, this time he would do what's right.
Perhaps his deeds would others show.
To fix that which was plain to see,
And not pretend he didn't know.
Once it was fixed, he turned around,
Returning from the way he'd come.
But no one ever knew his thoughts,
Or learned what he had done.