It turned out I was living the dream

and never knew it -

my whole life a sugar coated theme

that was carefully knit.

.

I realise the only reason

I don’t really care

about this short dry season,

is I know it will get fair

.

in time because I’m walking on

towards greener pastures

where I’ll be able to see the dawn -

just like the brochures.

.

But the Promised Land must wait for me,

for there is no road there

or any map across the sea,

for the lost - many a snare.

.

I know it’s bright shores in my mind,

I can see Her invite;

yet so many can’t and will not find,

nor of Her glimpse a sight.

.

No boat or cart has yet been built

for what can take me hence,

and none will be before I wilt

on this side of the fence.

.

But the road behind me stretches far,

paved with headstones grey -

and I sit here feeling quite bizarre,

with my own in the array.

.

The only thing there’s left to do

is leave a little note

for those behind me passing through,

to Her lands remote.

.

But first I’ll live a life so that

there’s something yet to write,

and hopefully worth looking at

or even maybe cite.

.