Lord, I thank you for my nightly dreams,
These places I have gone to,
These things that I have seen,
These terrors I have gone through
These warnings that intervene.
Thank you for preparing me,
Showing me what I couldn’t understand,
Thank you for giving the symbol key,
For sending the Holy Spirit to expand;
These vivid dreams I’ve had every night
Some of which caused me trauma, despite,
Some of them being, more lovely than I can ever say,
Huge landscapes of deep beauty, far far away.
Thank you Lord for teaching me
To pay attention to what all I see,
To write it down religiously,
And not presume I can fathom Thee…
Months later, or years first pass
Before comprehension dawns –
And slowly I’ve developed a compass
And a vocabulary for what all they warn.
Over the years since my childhood,
One theme has constantly been revised.
Over and over again,
These things I’ve witnessed,
With my sleeping eyes.
Evil days are coming…
The likes of which we’d not believe,
I listen close to the war like drumming,
A great monster will rise and many deceive.
What warning can I condense this to?
These warnings of my dreams,
Only to beg the people to remain true,
to remember things are not as they seem.
Each poem I’ve ever written,
About the dignity of grace,
has at its root some dream I’ve had
As its inspiration and its base.
All the things we see now,
Will be lost in the fire and the storm,
Oh my Jesus I beg you,
Help the people to reform…
You are coming in your glory,
You are coming to cut short the war,
You are coming to destroy the evildoers,
You will no longer be ignored.
