I have a dream for you; if God wills, it will come true.
If He does not, no matter how much I want, it will not take the right naut.
For our plans are never perfect; they always have a flaw or a defect.
But His are like a brook in spring that grows bigger as it unwinds.
They are like the dew in summer haze, as intricate and complex as a wise man’s maze,
Branching in and out as you go in, flying up and down like a bird’s wing.
He will never let them if we didn’t wrought them; and whoever wrought them have bought them.
For they are aptly hidden for the blind to see, and the seeing blinded for what they want to be:
Perfect in their own mind; lucrid for the God’s design.
For you can’t buy a God’s thought;
It’s not for sale, it has to be sought.
If you do not seek it, you will leak it,
And someone else will feat in.
As for my dream, we will see if it’s God’s plan or just me.
I have two beautiful coats; both are black, which probably means more.
One is a gift and one is a buy, but they fitted me like a perfect try.
Years ago I wanted them badly and searched in a shop for an hour sadly.
They were nowhere to be been, which I didn’t know was foreseen.
But now I have them, although I didn’t bade them.
They are part of a team that’s prepared to take part in a dream.
People say that brave means fear no one up or down here,
But does it mean that you adhere to no rule or people dear
And does it mean that people act with no fault and no regret?
For if it does, then you can do whatever you think is good for you,
And they, in turn, can do to you what they deem and think is true.
Imagine then a man like you got angry at the things you do
And imagine that he cried out, “You should better die than live here, too!”
And if his words were powerful enough to make that happen without a laugh,
Then you’ll be dead with no delay the moment he had had his say.
And if you thought your neighbor’s fault deserved a shot of similar lot,
Then soon enough the whole world would be empty of any man’s thought.
If that means brave, I’d rather fear than be a brave man killing his peer
For fear makes my life as dear as yours is in my fearful sphere.
The Sun is there for all to see God’s love and care for living things.
It goes up and the Earth is awake to start a day of labor and make.
It hides at night and darkness sets to show how hard is light to get.
Life’s nice and easy in the summer phase and cold and wheezy in the winter phrase.
But no matter the phase or phrase, the Sun’s always there with a smiling face.
It never gets angry; it always shines with the same grand power of God’s design.
The Earth sometimes frowns with rage reflecting the light and hiding the rays
Or howls with storms and hurricanes rejecting the warmth and killing the men,
But the Sun stays there with no haste gracefully waiting for a better chance
As the rain falls down to water the land and clear the way for a new life raise.
Has it not been for this steadfast gaze, how would we get rid of faze
And enjoy again an existence based on regular care and no change?