A home is great but merely bait,
A car looks nice but snares.
The clothes are grand while in your hand,
But in the end, “who cares?”
The food we eat might be a treat,
But handled wrong is flab.
The tongue will shoot from heartfelt root,
But misused turns to gab.
A job is nice and will suffice,
But if it’s first, it’s bad.
Some sports are fun but make you run,
Away from God; How sad!
And when I write, I fight the fight,
To still put my God first.
And not drift away, for writings play,
Then make my spirit thirst.
In all we do or will pursue,
There is a time and place.
But without God, the Divining Rod,
It’s a idol filling space.
They take our time like rythemed rhyme,
And consume our thoughts and gaps.
We’re led beyond the path we’re on,
And our busyness overlaps.
I guess today, I’m trying to say,
That possessions are okay.
If times consumed where we are doomed,
Then throw them all away!
The line is fine to see the sign,
Of where we fall or stand.
Don’t be consumed and then assume,
You’ll be in Promised Land.
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