Poetry

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Written 10-21-04

We exist in a closed system called “Life”,
Where nothing new can come about;
This truth, we’ve learned, cuts like a knife,
This, is a reality that will always shout.

We feel the reality of no control,
With all our attempts we can’t change the path,
When things about us start to roll;
This life, it seems to have its own wrath.

The mighty come and claim great boasts,
They flex and pose with austerity;
The world sees them, and grants them toasts,
While they die, to leave vain posterity.

Still we claim to have great power,
We are each our own king;
Our exaltation lasts maybe an hour,
We go to God with nothing to bring.

Yet, for all of man’s vanity,
God pities His pinnacle of creation;
He sent the Word to bring us sanity,
And guide us to our salvation.

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