A Time Called “When”

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 not 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,
But with a trembling hand it was great responsibility.
I can 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
In case there was a time that we had need for one,
Could all only hope for it then?
By writing deep thoughts, and mingling it with blood:
This thrill to our heart, that ends in a smile is our hope of the time called when.
Can it have its effect in the shadow it casts on the pages that mimic its light
And the shine that its love is hidden behind, 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 else, or when there is everything?