"Seeing Is Believing" - Bahamas AI Art
©A. Derek Catalano
Seeing Is Believing
I.
In the quiet dusk of dreams untold,
Lies a whisper, a tale, in shadows bold.
It moves through hearts, unseen, unheard,
A secret unspoken, a half-formed word.
Promises dance in the realm of air,
Fingers reaching, grasping at prayers.
"Just wait," they say, "soon it will be—"
But still I stand, blind and empty.
Faith, they claim, is the key to trust,
Yet trust is fragile, worn by dust.
How can I believe in things unseen,
When all I’ve touched are the cracks in between?
I want to know, to hold, to feel—
Not just the vision, but the real.
And so I wait, and doubt, and sigh,
Until I see it with my own eye.
II.
The world insists that I must believe
In stories spun from a distant weave.
"Just close your eyes, and trust the stream,"
But how can I, when I can’t see the dream?
They speak of miracles, of faith’s embrace,
Of hidden truths in time and space.
But all I’ve known is earth and stone—
How can I trust the seeds I’ve sown?
The clock ticks on, the days drift by,
While promises float like clouds in the sky.
"You’ll see it soon," they softly say,
"Be patient now, it’ll come your way."
But I am not one to sit and wait,
For what is unseen, still uncertain, late.
I need to touch, to grasp, to hold,
Before I believe in tales untold.
III.
The first crack, the tiniest glow,
A flicker, a shimmer, something to show.
And there it is, like a shadow at dawn,
Something familiar, something drawn.
I see it now, the shape takes form,
A mirage made solid, far from the storm.
The seeds I planted, small and shy,
Have pushed through earth, to touch the sky.
I breathe in deep, and feel the light,
For now I know, with clear-sighted sight,
That what was whispered in distant years,
Was never lost, was never fears.
It took its time, but now it’s here—
The proof I needed to conquer my fear.
Seeing is believing, they once said,
And now I know, with certainty, I’ve been led.
IV.
Oh, how we doubt, how we question the road,
How we stumble beneath the weight of the load.
Yet time, like water, wears down the stone,
And what was once wild is now well-known.
I saw it bloom where none could see,
I held it close, and it set me free.
Now when I tell the tales of yore,
I speak of faith, but I know the score.
The world is wild, and vast, and wide,
But truth is clear when you stand inside.
So believe, yes, but believe with sight—
For seeing is believing, in the fullest light.
V.
And still, my heart is cautious, slow,
For what I’ve seen may yet outgrow.
The world spins on, and doubts return,
But with each step, the stars still burn.
The journey calls, the paths remain,
Each vision leads to joy or pain.
Yet now, with eyes wide open, true,
I understand what I once knew.
For in the end, it's not just belief,
But seeing the truth, beyond the grief.
And though I once questioned the path unseen,
Now I know, it’s the only way to glean.
So trust, yes, trust in the unseen plan,
But also, know that sight is the hand
That guides the heart to what’s to be—
For seeing, my friend, is believing, you see.
©A. Derek Catalano/ChatGPT
Related poem: Things Take Time
