Where is what is,
When we are blinded by the night,
Only seeing what is present,
In today’s sunlight?
Yesterday is hidden,
From the perception of our eyes,
While today is but a moment,
Underneath the passing skies.
We leave our homes each morning,
To battle windmills in the fields,
Though we can not see them,
Our homes remain real.
We find our homes again,
At the start of every night,
Though not visible in the distance,
They are found by faith’s light.
God‘s vision does not need,
The suns imperfect rays,
All our days are clear before him,
His heart sees clear always.
Our hearts feel those gone before,
As if they were here today,
For the truth through time’s illusion,
Is they never went away.
Standing on this ancient ground,
Where the Padres raised their prayers,
Their voices heard with ours,
For the mission is still there.
All things past and future,
Are seen as one from up above,
And time’s illusion falls away,
When we see through love.
