One's days are vanity; one's nights consumed
by endless thirst for substitutes of peace.
Under the sun is nothing that is new,
And many hope in death to find release.
One's panting breath won't stop, one's heart won't still,
When that old king monotony holds sway.
Nor yet by bread is inner hunger filled--
Oblivion appears to be the way.
God's Word tells us that death is no escape,
Nor yet a torturer to inflict pain,
But a lucid and colorful mindscape
Wherein no thing exists that is mundane.
No streets are there, no buildings, nothing 'real',
For now reality assumes a form
Of formlessness; a dancing, flaming world
Set off by a new Vision unadorned
By little sights and disconnected sounds.
All tongues are stilled, and silent is the Voice
That echoes through the canyons of the heart
Reminding one to make another choice.
And rejoin God, from whom one cannot part.
No unforgiven world exists, no truth
In lies can find a place to be at home.
And man is vain in old age and in youth,
walking through life as if he is alone.
This world you see cannot be real because
You do not really see the world at all.
By judgment is the world obscured; by sight
is it revealed--an angel cannot fall.
And so is earth but heaven unperceived
...Until it is. Pray dawn that blessed day--
When you see but the blessing and the blessed,
The face of Christ in everyone you meet,
In all of his disguises of distress--
Then is the Kingdom plainly visible,
And earth and heaven cease as separate states.
'Til then be vigilant, keep trimmed your lamps
And take care that you have sufficient oil
For even now the bridegroom draweth near.
Keep watchful with me, Angels, hearts unsoiled--
While God my Father wipes away all tears.
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