Every man thinks that well he knows his own heart,
That its true desire will be clear in a look
And that single traded shall birth true love
Which dwells upon distant shores and hills of green;
He knows – somehow – that in failure he but wait
A moment and the next will come bearing peace.
But the cynical know there is no such peace,
Fickle and changing is every human heart
And no great effort, nor an enduring wait
Shall bring any even worth that second look.
And the man who thinks he’s found ‘it’ is just green
Untouched by the truth of the years without love.
Yet, even the greatest cynic must see love
Somewhere. To the honest man it comes with peace
Unearthly; not from this land of rolling green
But from a strength beyond any human heart;
Not a mind can fathom the one who does look
And for whom all our deepest longings do wait.
Yet in this moment I struggle with each wait,
With uncertainty, no present pulsing love
To enliven each breath with a simple look
That leaves my soul aware of another peace,
An earthly mirror of that heavenly heart
Which dimly fades even the most vibrant green.
I am without, now gone are the fields of green,
The roaming fields, that place where my dreams did wait.
With slow breaths I chill, I fear my longing heart
Shall burn itself out without the wood of love
To fill its mortal stoves; no chance of peace
When there’s no chance new days shall bring a new look.
But I have only to pause and take a look
To see, there distant, the coming future green
The rides upon hope, drawn forth by mighty peace,
Eternal gift providing the strength to wait
In this moment, eyes forward, until comes love
And the meeting, well prepared, of heart and heart.
So now I hope and look for her and still wait
For fresh fields of verdant green, awaking love
That leads to peace and gives us a restful heart.