I can imagine believing that I
Will see you again in all of your ways,
Will know the grace of God in which you died,
Will feel angelic arms in which you lie;
But cannot believe it, as doubt betrays—
So I imagine. Believing that, I
Trace my disbelief to lack of proof and try
To recollect, again recount the ways
To know the grace of God. The night you died
And saw to heaven right before my eyes—
An invitation worth the end of days!
I can imagine believing that I
Have seen in your ascendance to the sky
The consequence that only faithful praise
Can know. The grace of God in which you died—
A revelation in the face of pride.
With no redeeming character to play,
I can imagine believing that I
Will know that grace of God the day I die.
