The Dotted Line

"What are you doing here today?
What are you doing here, sir?"
He looks at the table then rubs his eyes
Then turns and walks away.

"What brings you here good sir?"
She asks the second man.
"To sign that page, but i'm not sure."
So quiet that no one heard.

"Can I help you my friend?"
To the next who replies:
"No ma'am, I'm just here to pretend,
I think it's a passing trend."

The room is quite bare,
Just a paper and a table,
And a young lady standing there,
On the floor, 15 feet square.

So now number four comes in,
He thinks that he wants to sign.
He's handsom and tall, but also quite thin,
And he forgot to bring a pen.

"Are you here to sign this sheet?"
The fifth man laughs and says yes;
"I'll sign, I'll have this life beat!"
Then writes down his name quite neat.

But his name is not all that strong,
The ink quickly fades,
And you cannot read it for long.
When he leaves, his smile is gone.

This paper is a fine and it must be paid,
The fine of every man's life.
Each man to blame for the life he has made,
But no man can sign his name.

The next man walked into the room,
Another paper in his hand.
It's not his life, but another man's whom
Has given men life that is new.

Man six takes the new page up to her,
And asks her to make the trade.
"First, sir, you sign this paper."
At the table she points, I'm sure.

Out of his pocket a pen he withdraws,
An ordinary pen of his.
The name that he knows, the name of awe,
That is the name that he draws.

The name is only three letters in length,
A simple statement of fact.
But it's full of power, full of strength,
The name to who he gives thanks.

"Your fine is paid, well done,"
She congratulates the man.
"You now start anew, a new life's begun;
Now He is your Father, you, His son."

-Ben Ankenmann
Date: March 20, 2008
Location: Ottawa