It’s dusk, that miraculous time of the day
The sun has set on the other side of the bay
Children are shouting, laughing as they play
Birds are hurrying off to where they stay
Pious individuals are bowing down to pray
Labourers seem happy to receive their pay
The Sky looks like a pink rose bouquet
As if His creation, He has chosen to display
If all is so beautiful, why does it seem grey?

Can someone explain to me the reason why?
Is it because beauty is in the beholder’s eye?
What if the eyes are soggy and not dry?
Does it mean everything that’s seen is a lie?
Do the eyes then simply deceive and defy?
Showing a caterpillar, when it’s a butterfly?

When I asked someone who’s wise and smart
He said, it‘s not the fault of eyes, but of the heart,
which beats irregularly when it’s been torn apart
Behaving like a computer that needs a restart
Distorting images to look like a weather chart...

So next time, I see grey at sunset or sunrise
I guess it won’t be such a big surprise
That my heart is the culprit, and not my eyes
It is my incorrigible, stubborn heart that denies
The gifts God sends me through the skies...