It Dawns on Me at Midnight

It dawns on me at midnight,
The paradox of it all.
The whispered shouts of His great might;
He's been the answer--all along!
My childhood wasted on paper dolls,
Sitting in pews, not listening at all.
How the message slipped by me--
Stomping, shouting, noisily--loudly!
Oh, what strength I could have had,
Had I just listened to what was said!
Oh the Love I could have known
If I'd understood what Strength wasn't my own.
All along, He's been reaching down;
All along, if I'd looked up--I'd have found!
I get it, now--your constant smiles.
I get it, now--your confidence, wild.
There is nothing in death but nothingness;
There is everything in life; granted forgiveness. 
So when they come to tell me you've gone,
Gone breath, gone soul; dead body, dead bones.
I smile myself, feeling it stretch a mile wide.
"No, good sirs. He's never been more alive."

The End

2 comments about this poem Feed