A Time Called "When"

By Hugh Lipsius

Years ago and far away, or was it yesterday?
Perhaps it never was at all, and now is because it was told;
A time to come and now that is, to help us reconcile.

A bit of poetry, it began,
To paint a picture of a time called when
In an effort to see how happy you’d be
In the face of your adversity.

But with a trembling hand it was great responsibility.
Can you see the pen dangling over the page
Whose blank lines were at once to show
Only truth and no lie about the face that will pass us by?

Perhaps this time and place called when
Is only a hope written down,
We could all hope for it then
In the time we had need for one.

By writing deep thoughts, and mingling it with blood.
This thrill to our heart, that ends in a smile
And a hope of the time called when
Can have its effect in the light that it casts on the pages that are but its shadow.

The shine that its love is hidden behind is the star that shines at night.
So let truth light the way in the darkness of shame and a fear of what it might be.
For stars always shine, but in day we are blind to the wonderful presence they are.

What light, I ask, cannot brighten the darkness of this shadow of death upon us?
Find it then, look hard in yourself, open the eyes that are in you
Believe in the time, a time called when, you need no other time to see.
Was it written for when there would be nothing left, or when there is everything?