Poetry
Everything I think I own's
just passing through my hands.
All ownership is fleeting
just like the shifting sands.
I claim no right to anything
that's bound by space and time.
Its folly and its foolish
to think anything is mine.
The only things I'll ever keep
are things I cannot buy.
I cannot pack for heaven
no matter how I try.
I'm a pilgrim and a steward
so the best that I can do,
is multiply the things of God
before the day is through.
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Heartfelt and thought-provoking. Words to live by. Thanks!
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