Who Knows the Way

Sleeps departs but dark mist persist with walking sticks and swollen feet a bowl in hand,pennies in it we want to know,who knows the way. Golden feet on ivory Street barns and yards in rural reefs all have eyes of lame survey behold, they ask who knows the way Many footprints on sands has passed day and night we travail on a search unending,while nerves are bending still we ask who knows the way. Jesus is the way.