The Children Of Yesterday

Empty are the silent passages, which are drawn upon a sullen heart.

Black steely is the silence from where yesterday’s children scream.

Yet, liken this now to the blind man who sees beyond the darkness unto the light.

For yesterday’s children cry beneath the whispers of what is no more.

Their dreams cut short, their hope stolen in the dark night.

They sleep now; never to return, theirs dreams are as a ghost.

They live in places where the mind of mere mortal man can never comprehend.

For they, the children of yesterday…the children of yesterday know no end.

They speak to the heart through summer flowers, and fields, which grow forever.

So listen, see, and commune in the silent passages of the heart-

To the children of yesterday, whose tomorrow is no more,

Whose past softly sleeps in the soft innocence of yesterday.

J. Allen Wilson © 7-3-2009