The Evangelical Universalist Forum

Dreaming of Future Glory

As a new member, I am still very much a novice in all of this. I included a poem I wrote under the category “Introductions” without realising there was a section for Poetry. A few months ago I had a about a wonderful dream I believe God gave me about my wife. I usually never remember dreams but that one was so vivid I remember every detail. It woke me up with a start and I immediately leaned over to see if my wife was still with me. (My wife is dying of advanced dementia but is still with me). That was a year ago now and, indeed, she is still with me.
I wrote the poem from the perspective of a stranger (Man in Café) who came to sit down beside me (The Dreamer and the “old man” in the poem) in a local coffee shop.

Man in Café

A few weeks ago, I for coffee did go to relax in my favourite café.
I looked all around, no friends could be found; they must have gone elsewhere that day;
Just one empty chair, I went and sat there by the side of a man grey and old;
“May I join you?” said I, he smiled in reply, then a wonderful story he told.

He needed an ear, his story to hear, I was happy that role to fulfil;
He spoke of his wife, the love of his life, and how she was dreadfully ill,
Mind no longer sound, no cure to be found; in a few months, no more than a year,
She would be taken and he left forsaken: I blinked back a surfacing tear.

His eyes misted o’er as he thought of the shore on the Mediterranean Sea;
Where he’d fallen in love, like a bolt from above, with a girl as fair as could be.
How on one winter’s night, by the flickering light of a fire slowly struggling for life,
He had gazed in her eyes, as blue as the skies, and asked her to be his dear wife.

One could hear a pin drop, conversation had stopped that day in the little café
Eyes were all trained and every ear strained to hear what the man had to say.
Some chairs were drawn near, the man didn’t care, he wanted the whole world to tell
Love never ceases, it only increases, when two souls in God’s love do dwell.

He paused, wiped his brow, I don’t really know how he could carry on with his tale;
The tension so real, one could almost feel excitement o’er what he’d unveil
Now, in his own words, I’ll record what I heard, as he tenderly spoke of his pain;
‘Though not one to cry, I do know that I will ne’er be the same man again.

The Dreamer

“The bride turned every head that day when we wed, as she gracefully walked down the aisle;
Friends and relations said congratulations, the reception took place in fine style
On the lawn, amid flowers – we were spared any showers - of rain in the garden that day
Of my bride’s lovely home; under heaven’s blue dome, and then we were off on our way.”

“Fifty years have gone by, time really does fly, there’s so very much more I could tell,
About life o’er the sea, on continents three, some places not known very well.
She gave children to me - not one, two, or three - but nine who would gladden our lives;
Five girls and four boys, full of promise and joys; they all now have husbands or wives.”

“We made plans for when we’d retire and then we would roam over land and o’er main,
We might even fly, like eagles on high, to that beautiful seashore in Spain.
But it wasn’t to be, God’s plan was different, you see; as I’ve said, she became desperately ill,
She now cannot walk, stand up, even talk – it’s hard to believe it’s God’s will.”

“Through my darkness did gleam a wonderful dream, which I have to tell you about;
It was given you see, out of God’s love for me, to remove from my mind any doubt;
That He holds my wife dear, the dream made that clear, her future immeasur’bly better
Than her life here below, in this dark vale of woe; the Lord will never forget her.”

“I saw my dear wife, not as now in this life, but just as she was when we wed.
As lovely as ever, I know that never have such thoughts entered my head.
I reached out my hand - to draw her close to me and - to tell her in words unexpressed,
My love is e’en deeper and I want to keep her as close as I can to my breast.”

“She wore a silk gown, a golden tan-brown, its skirts reaching down to the floor;
And a necklace that seemed to me as I dreamed, like one I had bought her before.
My eyes opened wide, I was watching her glide so gracefully round that great hall;
She was dancing, ‘tis true, I cried for I knew I was watching a heavenly ball.”

“I awoke with a start, and thought in my heart that God may have taken my love
to His home far away, where all His will stay in mansions in Heaven above.
‘Please Lord, don’t take her. You’ll not forsake her, but I’m still not ready, you see,
For her to depart’, I prayed from my heart; His grace was sufficient for me.”

“By dawn’s early light, I feared that she might have departed this sad world of death;
I feared for the worst, my eyes ready to burst … into tears had she breathed her last breath.
Then, pleasant surprise, she opened her eyes, her face with a radiance glowing
No words did I hear, her eyes told me, “My dear, ‘tis a wonderful place where I’m going.”

“If dreams have a meaning, from mine I am gleaning our future will ever be glorious,
On that faraway strand in a beautiful land with those who have gone there before us;
And that dream was given to tell me of heaven and even my hopes to enhance;
That one day, in that place, by God’s marvellous grace, I will join my beloved and dance.”

Man in Café

The old man drained his cup and slowly got up; he said, “thank you for listening, ‘twas grand;”
Many were weeping, one was still keeping damp hankies gripped tight in her hand.
He limped o’er the floor; then went through the door – he was going to see his sweetheart;
I remained in a trance, but I know they will dance, and never again be apart.

Beautiful and touching, Invernessian! Only a Scottish person can write poetry like that!

My mother’s mother came from the Isle of Skye. My mother wrote a book of poetry. Here is a sample:


When I came to the gate of the Morning
Just at the break of day,
When I entered the long, lovely stretches
That lead to the far-away,
The world was radiantly beautiful,
But I was impatient to go,
For time seemed to stand in that beautiful land
On that morning of long ago.

When I came to the gate of the Noon-tide
To Busy Street’s glitter and glow,
Here, time hurried ruthlessly onward;
I followed, reluctant, and slow.
Many days had I spent, happy hours,
And I was so carefree and gay;
How sad it all seems that my Noon-tide’s sweet dreams
Have so silently passed away.

Then I came to the gate of the Sunset,
Nor hastened to enter there;
For a feeling of sadness came o’er me,
Akin to a deep despair.
I gazed at the path I had travelled,
And would have retraced my way,
But I could not go back on that beautiful track;
So I entered the end of the Day.

I know of a dawn more resplendent
Than this earthly dawn that I love;
It begins with our God eternal
Far away in the heaven above.
When I open my eyes on that morning
After the shadows all flee;
How sweet will seem Day in that land far away
That will last through Eternity.

Thanks, Paidion, for your kind comment.The poem you posted is very moving.

I think I inherited a love for poetry from my mother who came from the countryside north and west of Inverness. She used to read poetry to my brothers, sister and me before bedtime as we sat around a coal fire burning in the hearth. Some of the poems she read brought us to tears and not because they were bad poetry!

My dear wife also loved to read poems by Robert Browning and his like. I am sorting through boxes containing pages upon pages on which she wrote out poetry, commentaries by Spurgeon on the Psalms, commentaries by A W Pink on Genesis, Exodus, etc. and much more. My wife’s spirituality was so much deeper than mine. I am sure it still is but I am deeply saddened that I can no longer converse with her about the Lord and His Word. She would have loved being a member of this forum.

If I knew how to attach a photo of myself, I would.

I can help with that!

Step 0.) You’ve got to have a small photo on your computer, somewhere you can easily find it again. (I know that’s obvious, thus step 0, but I try to be complete.)

Step 1.) From any page on the forum (as far as I know), look for “User Control Panel” in the upper left side, two lines under the forum banner. It will also be under the line that traces what folder you’re currently in (for example, in this case, Board Index < Studies < Poetry.) “User Control Panel” is a hyperlink. Left click it.

Step 2.) Under the label for the “User Control Panel”, you should see several tabs reading, from left to right, “Overview”, “Profile”, etc. You should be on “Overview” to start. In any case, left-click on the “Profile” tab.

Step 3.) This should bring up the “Edit Profile” window. Now along the left side you should find some descending tabs which read, top to bottom, “Edit Profile” (which should be the window you’re on at that point), “Edit Signature”, and then “Edit Avatar”. Left-click that third one.

Step 4.) Now you’re on the “Edit Avatar” window, and you’ll find some text in the middle of it letting you know that your picture cannot be larger than “Maximum dimensions; width: 200 pixels, height: 200 pixels, file size: 18.00 KiB.” So if your photo on your computer takes up more memory than 18 kilobytes, you’ll have to downsize it, and there are too many ways to do that (none of which are very obvious!) for me to make a guess at here. But theoretically, assuming your pic is small enough (and you can always try and see what happens) you would left-click the “browse” button which should bring up a window showing the file system on your current computer, already looking at some folder somewhere (who knows where it will start? I don’t!) You’ll have to navigate this window to find where you left your photo (on your "desktop’ for example).

Step 5.) Once you’ve found where you parked your photo, I you can either double-left-click that file; or left-click it and then left-click the “Open” button or whatever your system uses there. That should start the upload to the forum server.

Step 6.) If it works, great! Profit. If not, hopefully the system will tell you why and you can look up somewhere on the internet on how to adjust your picture’s size down. (Or maybe adjust its format, to .jpg if it’s a .tif or something like that.)

Thanks, Jason. I think I’ve mastered it with your help and I didn’t even need to consult Zippy, my 8 year-old grand-daughter!
The picture isn’t very flattering though.

Paidion, your mother’s beautiful poem brought this to my mind:

[size=130]Fern Hill[/size], by Dylan Thomas (1914 - 1953)

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace.

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

Whoa! That is some poem, and I will take some time to fully ‘get’ it. First thing I’ve read by Dylan Thomas!

Amen. I love this poem. And Dave, forgive me for injecting this, but when I read,

“And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise”

–it rings true in my heart to a literal Creation Week.

PS to Invernessian: I look forward to meeting your wife some day, and your entire family.