They told us our gods would outlive us
They told us our dreams would outlive us
They told us our gods would outlive us
But they lied

The gods we dream into supremacy do not out live us, they do not offer permanency, lasting relevancy. Time goes by and things grow old, demanding more, never able to satisfy to the core. Here I am growing old, standing alone and the things of my youth have crashed away, stolen into the morose of insufficiency, and yet within the sadness vision becomes acute.  I breathe easier, reposing into stillness.  I need more, and underneath permeates a joy, silently bolstered by faith, hope, and charity.  God is good and all giving.