A poem by Gabriel Mattix
Living the dream;
Life seems a cruel joke,
It’s not nice out there.
I didn’t ask to be born.
But I’m told it’s a gift.
It’s easy to say that,
But the thought isn’t short shrift.
At first glance I see nothing,
But suffering and pain.
Even the young and the healthy,
Aren’t free from death’s reign.
We’re born in the dirt.
And dirt we remain.
Can there be any shelter?
Can there be any claim?
A claim to a purpose.
A reason to go on.
A stable foundation,
To build life upon.
There is One who gives hope;
Who gives purpose to life.
There is one who gives dreams;
Visions of heaven: true life.
But before we receive;
Our old dreams He must kill.
Stop fighting and trust Him.
Surrender our will.
We all make plans;
Things that we want to do.
But we must learn to be quiet,
And submit to the new.
Our dreams for life,
Whether realized or dead,
Are far too short sighted.
We’re dim in the head.
We can’t see the future.
And when we’re in pain;
Our vision is clouded;
Yet also regained.
When dreams turn to nightmares,
Only then can we see,
That Jesus is better;
He is everything.
One day we will see Him;
Live and walk in His light.
Even now we know Him;
And that makes things alright.
Living the dream;
Dreaming the nightmare.
But there’s more out there.
The crown Prince of heaven;
In His inheritance we share.
As we suffer with Him;
His glory He brings.
New dreams; dreams of heaven,
Eternal life; life pristine.
You can have my old visions,
Broken dreams and sad life.
I live now for Jesus;
The Lord of my life.
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