I wonder what my brother sees
Don’t we all wonder too
Is he seeing the colors of gold
And the cross worn for me and you?
So many have questioned heaven
They need proof it really exist
But how can you say this
When Al says it is there, he insist.
We writers can put it on paper
Our imaginations exist
But what about the hand
That Al saw through the fog and mist?
He says he has spoken to her
He says she answers him too
Could he make up such a story
Why must we see before we believe
Why can’t we just carry some faith
Doesn’t what he says hold truth
Especially in this case?
We shall have our time
When we will have the chance to see
And if you decide to visit
You will see my brother and me.