The home I once thought beautiful has gone
And strangers bid to pass their views as gifts
The eyes I look through now are almost done
The world shall fall apart;it shall be swift.
For sorrow casts a shadow grey and bleak.
A cataract of the spirit makes life grim
We do not understand nor do we speak
Our generosity seems to be thin
On the lens of eye the surgeon works
Replacing it to give us truer sight
But on the eye of soul we seem to shirk
Not knowing we are isolate from light.
In these spaces, few there are who talk
And long grey shadows seemingly do stalk
How my heart sings 