Author: Dick Bolles
We spin through space, yet drive our car
As though on straight, flat ground,
What great illusionists we are:
We're really upside down.
'Twas Shakespeare said it first, I think,
"What fools these mortals be,"
"We hold the world is only what
Our earthly eyes can see.
We think A World Invisible
Just simply can't exist.
So, "what you see is all you get,"
On that this Age insists.
Bunk! there is Mercy -- can't see that!
Forgiveness, too, and Love!
And true, the world's not flat, but round,
And heaven's not "above",
Yet God surrounds us, everywhere,
As though we're in His womb,
Yes! Christ was born. Lived. Died. Rose. There!
He killed death in its tomb.
Illusionist! come, close your eyes
And lean on Faith, not reason,
Man's experience testifies
We really need this Season:
When Unseen World sings out its Joy
Despite This World's bad news:
"Look up! for He, the baby King,
Was sent to be your Muse."
Dang! light the trees! Dance! Sing the songs,
And hang the mistletoe;
Do what we can to right life's wrongs,
And let our souls just know
Things aren't as bad as they may seem,
God triumphs, in the end.
So, Marci sends her love, and I
Add hugs, to you, dear friend.