Things Unseen

I want to once again see those things unseen,

And behold the gilded glory of my fleeting spiritual dreams.

For I once stood in a forest at the edge of heavens door,

Yet now my visions have been clouded by the inhumanity of war.

I remember the once fresh, green, and graceful rolling hills

And I look now in horror as they have now turned to a dying desert

brought forth by the evil consummation of man and his will.

Now little remains of those once placid and peaceful times

Back then, back when the realm of goodness came forth like a sweet wine.

I pray now aloud these days, and often for the masses openly weep,

Yet even still I fail to find that gentle peace that so many desperately seek.

For if I could but lend to a few the visions of my spiritual dreams

If I could but give to all who ask, those things unseen,

Then I standing once more at the edge of heavens door,

Could welcome home the hurting and suffering

And give unto them the solace that they forever seek….

Or… I could just pick up these rose colored glasses of indifference

and put them on so that when I view life it does not appear to be bleak…

 J. Allen Wilson © Seven 2006