Not Ours To See!
As darkness comes; a mind grows empty;
visions; simply fade out of sight;
the deeper thoughts no longer tempt me;
I’ve lost all vision of what to write.
Poems are created as metaphors of truth;
we’re given the gift to pray;
darkness comes to conceal all the proof;
fools try to say it anyway.
I’m only a scribe; acting as stenographer;
becoming a servant’s voice;
I wasn’t appointed; life’s photographer;
such is only God’s choice.
I am that darkness; attempting to shine;
with pride, lighting my path;
who am I; absolute truth to define;
arrogance incurs God’s wrath.
Sometimes; I fancy myself as a sage;
seeing the future unravel;
truth only becomes; page by page;
only prophets time travel.
Instead, I’m neither; prophet, nor sage;
I’m only a fool without proof;
my thoughts just see life; page by page;
hearing God’s whispers of truth.
Death brings about God’s gift of ascension;
when eternal truths come to be;
dawn ushers in God’s thought dimension;
the future’s not ours to see.
Monty 11.23.25. # 3,074