We go on about our lives

Either in fear or denial

As the chaos around us unfolds.

 

Both the deepest secrets

And myriad nuances

In the warp and weave of events

Are often hidden from our eyes.

 

Or we see the individual pieces

Of the colorful mosaic

But do not put the pieces together

To view the picture it forms as a whole.

 

Like the tip of an iceberg floats

In a majestic blue seascape

That hides beneath its wavy windswept surface

A white frosty treacherous mountain,

 

So also the great and varied events,

Many but not all,

Graphic and horrid,

Will unfold as this age ends

And another begins.

 

While some of us huddle in fear and cry.

Most go about their daily lives

In ignorant bliss,

Filling the hunger of their souls

With whatever sensual activity

Or entertainment

Or vice

That they may desire and can afford.

 

I am reminded of an Old Cree Indian prophecy:

 

“Only after the last tree has been cut down,
Only after the last river has been poisoned,
Only after the last fish has been caught,
Only then will you find

that money cannot be eaten.”
I am also reminded of an ageless

Prophecy of Jesus

From the New Testament:

 

“But as the days of Noe were,

so shall also the coming

of the Son of man be.

 

For as in the days

that were before the flood

They were eating and drinking,

marrying and giving in marriage,

 

Until the day that Noe

entered into the ark,

And knew not until the flood came,

and took them all away;

 

So shall also the coming

of the Son of man be. . .

 

Watch therefore:

For ye know not what hour

your Lord doth come.”

 

From Waysides Along the Journey 4: Caravansary

WTO 11.24.11