Nobody sits on a bench in the park
And his name is Jeffrey Hughes
His family has forgotten him
And his friends have all abandoned him.
In a bag right beside him, he’s got his umbrella
And a flask of stolen scotch
A roll of film from his mother’s old camera
And a story with untold potential.
A pigeon lands on the bench to his left
And shivers in the February wind
“Let’s share a last meal, old friend,
As we sit and wait for the end.”
“Mama, I’m comin to see you,” he says,
And he feeds the pigeon some crumbs,
While tears push at his eyes,
So he coughs and smothers the tide.
“Don’t let the Demons take control!”
His mother yelled from her room.
“Don’t you ever let me see you cry!”
She shouted, banging on the wall.
“Is there anything I haven’t tried?” he cried.
“To avoid pain, I’ve served my fellow man,
Relieved sadness by attending the show,
And drowned my worries in the bottle.”
Jeffrey, lost in thought, stands up and walks away
To his fright he notices the deep dark forest
Surrounding him on every side.
It’s a wonder light penetrates anything.
An old man is on the path to the North,
His skin scratched and torn.
Jeffrey stoops to help him up
And the man is gone in an instant.
“That man was the Devil himself, you fool!”
A voice booms from all directions.
Jeffrey turns and runs as fast as he can.
“And you just helped him escape!”
Nobody sits on a bench in the park,
And his name is Jeffrey Hughes.
He’s got a lot to learn and a lot to tell
Nobody knows what but the Devil himself.
In a bag right beside him, he’s got his umbrella
And a stolen flask of scotch
A roll of film from his mother’s old camera
And a story with untold potential.
A pigeon lands on a stump to his left
And shivers in the February wind.
“Let’s share a last meal,” It says
“As we sit and wait for the end.”
In the darkness this night a shadow appears
And reaches a hand towards Jeffrey.
“In return for your treachery,
You must pay with your life!”
Relief floods home in the boy
As he thinks he is meeting his death.
The shadowy figure senses the change.
“And perhaps with something you value more?”
“How about the roll of film in your bag?
The one from your mother’s old camera.”
Despair tries to siege Jeffrey’s heart
But he battles it down with a valiant effort.
“Who are you?” Jeffrey whispers, and falls to his knees.
The mysterious man perceives his great pain.
“I am the Forgotten Guru of Truth,
And the one man left who can help you.”
The roll of film rises from the bag
As Jeffrey suppresses concern
Images of a happy, peaceful family
Project themselves across the sky.
“Don’t you ever let me see you cry!”
His mama shouted, banging on the wall
As tears run down his upturned face
And the Guru observes from afar.
Mindful of the debt he still has to pay,
The Guru approaches and outstretches a hand
“There is beauty is sadness,” Jeffrey whispers through tears,
And the Guru nods to confirm.
“And beauty is a reflection of what is inside us,”
The Guru replied and drew an ugly sword.
He slayed Jeffrey Hughes, nobody,
And melted like flesh into the night.