They have come, the good ones
To be reminded they are not.
Now they must strive for an end to striving.
They have come, the bad ones
Seeking mercy, and fearing it;
The scalpel cuts us deep and leaves a scar.
They have come, the wise ones
Laying syllogism aside,
And letting sterile word games play themselves.
They have come, the hurt ones
Exposing hidden wounds and thorns
To gentle touch and graceful healing hands.
They have come, the sceptics
Suddenly doubting their own doubts
A silent infant demands their answer.