Until That Date Arrives Maybe All I Should Do

When we finally meet, You must explain

Why in Your world You allowed such pain,

And not just allowed but maybe also

Deliberately arranged for this to be so.

In so explaining maybe You’ll also tell

Why here You allowed such joy as well,

And not just allowed but perhaps made it be,

Such joy, along with such pain, this duality.

Is it that we’re Your puppets, hung on a string,

And to us pain and joy You alternately bring,

One followed by the other, as decreed by You,

Our lives here thus strung between these two?

I’m not sure, but I seem somehow to feel

This pain and joy are both part of a deal,

Both calibrated by You to the finest degree,

Being two sides of a most strange mystery

That You’ve conjured, a great magic show,

The purpose of which You alone know,

And when we meet, on a not far-off date,

The reality of it all You’ll then clearly state.

Yes, the mystery behind all of this joy and pain

Maybe only then You’ll consent to fully explain,

And until that date arrives maybe all I should do

Is to hand both my joy and my pain over to You.