Poetry

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The sun will rise, then will fall,
such is the Tyrant Time.
Do you not hear the call,
the rhythm of your rhyme?

Who are you, why're you here?
Do you have a purpose?
Is it for Love, or is it fear?
Is it far below the surface?

Like the prints on your fingers,
you are like a snowflake.
You're unique, your own ringer,
made of the highest stake.

There's a Heart, of holy grade.
full of your good Plan.
Just like you it's custom-made,
patterned after the Man.

If you want it with fervent desire,
then use this passion's key.
Only He feeds the hottest fire.
He will grant your plea.

I found my place in these words,
and within the rhythm.
These were born from my life's shards,
strengthened by His wisdom.

If you fail, if you fall,
then you are just like me.
Get back up, and seek that call,
I learned there's no Plan B.

He can be found, He's not lost.
You'll find Him if you want to.
It's for this He paid the cost.
So find that He is true.

When you have Him, you have all.
Of all you're the richest.
You will see He answered your call.
The Planner made you so blessed.

© 9-16-2010

Based on:
Jeremiah 29:11-13; Romans 8:28-29

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