Oh blue yonder, I often wonder what awaits me at the gate? In all the days of life I’ve lived will story make the grade?
We struggled amongst a crowded crew a million cells just like you, yet in the end we’d won first place and took the gold in swimmer’s race! In swim upstream of current’s pull behold we all have won the gold, Olympic stars who’s fight for life did swim against the current’s tide.
This swim did mirror the strife in life that we would come to be, as struggles juggles and balanced troubles would mirror that torrent sea. In swim upstream so far from home we came through shock of birth alone, in time allotted from numbered days what truth in us has been displayed?
Of days that number the span of life we’ve sought to fathom the scents of spice, of smells and spells and views of hell thy soul obliged to be compelled. We’ve run the race at full speed pace not bothered by the hollers and stumbled past our life so fast our eyes have missed the blunders.
We’ve walked up hills against the wind and seldom asked of what’s the sin, and could not escape of what’s thy fate nor be freed concedes to second place. We strive to be the best we can but failed in jest as mortal man, if good we’d pray to Lord above and hope he’d bless our souls with love.
If old is wise then sums disguise twill’ shadow faint illusions, of something grand that’s made from man from intellect’s confusions. Bruised and bloodied minds of wise won’t come to know of yonder prize but circumstance in game of chance can give a glimpse to false pretense.
Oh blue yonder, I often wonder what awaits me at the gate? In all the days of life I’ve lived will story make the grade?
Of words we spoke and tokes from smokes and living life’s some kind of joke, we’ll write the book of life we cooked from schemes and dreams of gold washed clean to justify behaviors. And who’s the fool that thinks he’s cool in befitting soul on life of spice from savored things imaged clean with soiled hands that favored?
Oh blue yonder gift forgotten can’t declare the count of hairs and in passing through this Vail of blue what story’s told of me in you? For he who goes both to and fro does roam thy earth in hunt for souls who’d choose to ride with devil’s pride and end up dying as soul deprived.
Does sapphire view of blue recant the words that Jesus knew or offer clues to path through blue and comfort minds bewildered? At gate you’ll take thy leap of faith extending hand of mortal man and through thin veil you’ll come to know thy soul exposed to holy grail.
Oh blue yonder, I often wonder what awaits me at the gate? In all the days of life I’ve lived will story make the grade?
Is kingdom come a place that’s true and have a room for me and you? Can we imagine as simple man of such a place that is so grand? Does holy grail weigh souls that failed or give a pass to doubt’s assails? Does Lord above scale heart’s filled love and know who’s who in measure?
Does sapphire blue provide us clues to paths of alabaster? Can tears of love ask God above to keep us from disasters? Our questions dear are full of fears that seem to fall on deafened ears and doubts about thy faith can’t shout about a life that’s worthy.
Yet answers come but not from tongues as silenced words refrain absurd in tone and hue beyond the blue of wonder.
Oh blue yonder, I often wonder what awaits me at the gate? In all the days of life I’ve lived will story make the grade?
Michael Chaffee 4-1-21
Writing with the Veiled…
