Three lines to heaven

This day I cross the rain washed bridge,
I feel not the stream that flows beneath.

This day I pass the burned brick house,
I feel not the fire that burns within.

This day I row with lost broken paddles,
I feel not the ripples in my dream.

That day.......

The hills have a silent will,
These winds will not let me be,
Walls I see but would they fall,
How can the blind find a way.

A will is a way , they say,
But these paths do not lead,
Nor do hedges, wills heed;
Oft the heart finds a way.

With winds may minds sway,
Smiles glisten the eyes grey,
Some tales are better lost,
Some lives better this way.