Poetry

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I had a vision, which came calling,
Jarred me from my peaceful sleep,
Veiled in cloth about his shoulders,
Sat below my trembling feet.

He set silent, stared upon me,
With eyes glazed as hardened steel,
Pierced a hole while looking through me,
With ease had broken down my will.

His robe bore color black as midnight,
His hands seemed more than ivory white.
I spoke though fear of his intentions,
While visiting with me on this night.

He spoke no words while staring at me,
Setting silent for a spell.
I wondered if this ghostly vision,
Birthed from heaven or from hell.

He took a book that he was holding,
Laid it gently by my side.
The cover sparkled gold in color,
With all its pages locked inside.

The title shown was quite disturbing,
I read it over many times.
Titled, “treasures up in heaven”,
I knew this book he brought was mine.

He motioned with his hand to open,
But its locked I made my plea.
My fist yet clenched he slowly opened,
In my palm I held the key.

My mind raced along my memories,
Searching for the good I’d done.
I seen my life was sadly empty,
I had lived life for only fun.

Oh I was kind and I was gentle,
But everyone has that to share.
In a world so filled with suffering,
What had I done to ease despair?

I neglected the broken hearted,
The hungry child, the helpless bands.
I was selfish in all my choices,
When it concerned my fellow man.

I placed the key into the locket,
The strap loosened on the book.
My face pale stared at the pages,
Each one blank where I now looked.

From front to back there was no entry,
Without one word I read my fate.
Crying to the vision standing,
Asking if it was to late.

His head shook slow in my direction,
I cried I’ll fill this book of mine.
I’ll search out the needy person,
I’ll give more than just my time.

The book he closed again so slowly,
I offered back to him the key.
I knew instant I was mistaken,
The key had always been with me.

I have the power at any moment,
To make an entry in this book.
Laying treasures up in heaven,
Was something I had just forsook.

All I have on earth will canker,
One day return again to dust.
But my treasures up in heaven,
Are the treasures that won’t rust.

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