It Really Does Not Matter

 Oh, out of this naïve and simple mind of mine

comes now at last the surety of truth which is of my life, in this time.

For it is from within this veiled mist with its silent and soft secrets

That the certainty and absolute sense of my finite days become known.

For year upon my year and dream upon my dream

I in faith and counterfeit fortitude have so believed.

Yet now, with the passing, and ever so fleeting day,

I realize this moment, that in the reality of higher things…

it matters not

For nothing, no nothing will ever… really change.

For you see, I have all too often leaned unto my own understanding,

Whilst all the while failing to grasp the reality of what is really happening.

For as is unto me, it is, also unto others, which were before.

Striving, dreaming, and believing,

Yet never once actually achieving

The fullness that this swift and hurried life has in store.

It is even so, even in those who in centuries past have built mighty empires,

It is even so, to those who lay destitute and burned by poverty's consuming fire.

Therefore, we must all reason to the dark truth, that there is no escape,

When calculating the immensity of our simple and bewildered fate.

For

You see…

It really…really does not matter…

For no hurt, no grief, no pleasure, no peace

Truly matters

When measured against eternity.

J. Allen Wilson © 2005