The Key

The Key

It has often been said and I can also attest,

That we have only one life but many tests.

From cradle to grave and all that’s in between,

The visions of life rare, vivid, and sometimes unseen.

It’s in these moments, those that are unseen,

That we see the clearest things, a life that could’ve been.

Some moments engender tears or sorrows uncontrolled,

But more often it creates within us glories untold.

So I sit in my graying years with pencil ready,

And write of fonder moments, some making me giddy.

Yet, in between those times of heavenly bliss,

I see them, I feel them, all of those that I miss.

It’s been said that we can no longer commune,

That our spoken words the mystical abyss consumes.

But I’m not so sure my words are all for naught,

For I speak with them in dreams their visits sought.

Whether I’m young, middle-aged, or bent over old,

There is one true story that will forever be told.

That in my dreams all of the voices come to me,

And bring ages of memories for faith is the key.