All I Know
I said a prayer long ago,
When I was very young,
And whispered words to God alone,
The song my heart had sung,
Of dandelions, dark of night,
Of innocence and dearest love,
And oh, I dreamed, and tasted Light,
For all my thoughts were fixed above.
But never came an answer then,
No, never. . . just the wind.
The years they passed till grown I stood,
A sad and burdened wanderer,
Who prayed again those whispered words,
Old and brittle though they were,
Like flowers pressed in yellowed books,
The faintest scent of faded Spring,
And longing broke my heart with tears;
I begged the Lord to grant this thing.
But never came an answer then,
No, never. . . just the wind.
And what I wanted most of all,
I never spoke aloud again,
Though often I would sit alone,
And think of all that might have been.
The tender dreams of a single boy,
Nothing much, for all I'd lost,
Or never found, and who can tell,
The deeper pain, the greater cost?
But never came an answer then,
No, never. . . just the wind.
A man may live in truth forever,
Songs their lives lay down at last,
My words may live in silvered rhymes,
Dying, slowly, into the past,
But love will live in memory,
And all I loved will find me there,
God still hears me; this I know,
And heaven holds our every prayer.
Perhaps I need no answer, then,
But the whispered words of the wind.
When I was very young,
And whispered words to God alone,
The song my heart had sung,
Of dandelions, dark of night,
Of innocence and dearest love,
And oh, I dreamed, and tasted Light,
For all my thoughts were fixed above.
But never came an answer then,
No, never. . . just the wind.
The years they passed till grown I stood,
A sad and burdened wanderer,
Who prayed again those whispered words,
Old and brittle though they were,
Like flowers pressed in yellowed books,
The faintest scent of faded Spring,
And longing broke my heart with tears;
I begged the Lord to grant this thing.
But never came an answer then,
No, never. . . just the wind.
And what I wanted most of all,
I never spoke aloud again,
Though often I would sit alone,
And think of all that might have been.
The tender dreams of a single boy,
Nothing much, for all I'd lost,
Or never found, and who can tell,
The deeper pain, the greater cost?
But never came an answer then,
No, never. . . just the wind.
A man may live in truth forever,
Songs their lives lay down at last,
My words may live in silvered rhymes,
Dying, slowly, into the past,
But love will live in memory,
And all I loved will find me there,
God still hears me; this I know,
And heaven holds our every prayer.
Perhaps I need no answer, then,
But the whispered words of the wind.