The Vision

Was it a dream or a vision, the clouds pass over my mind 

and I’m living in a place I don’t know 

and yet feel at home. 

Life’s mystery in a flash of memory 

only to be lost in the busyness all around. 

My heart is sad but my spirit rejoices in the light of the day. 

The dark of night holds no fear, 

the darkness of my mind only a veil 

over the glory that beckons me forward. 

The poetry of the world in the songs of the birds,

in the blossoming of the flowers all around. 

My words are dull in comparison to all that God has given 

in the vibrant color that the artist can only hope to convey. 

We only comprehend what we see and not what we feel, 

visions and dreams dismissed as issues of the tortured soul. 

The visionary regulated to the pit, 

imprisoned by the fear that surrounds 

like a deep hedge grove, 

thick with branches of dark leaves. 

Yet the light sees a way, 

breaking through the impenetrable forest 

illuminating even the darkest places. 


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