Walk the earth, understand the glory:
Don't be deceived, by another story..
When we die and go into the grave; how can our soul be redeemed?
With no one to save.
There we stay: consciousness gone;
But if we understand, and he is our song...
When his loving kindness is found on the earth...
The earth yields her fruit; and the soul finds rebirth...
Ashes to ashes: we came from dust.
Created in the image, of whom we must trust.
The righteous shall see it; give the dew of their praise...
Heavens rejoice: when man comes of age; and gives glory for what they have found...
A hope of deliverance, from the pit under ground..
Where the fires not quenched; and their worm never dies.
Yes, little children, he doesn't tell lies.
But where is the truth?
Where do we stand?
Caught in an evil time:
Fish in a net; birds in a snare:
Searching hearts with blind eyes..
The kingdom within us: the heart must be tried; there to uncover; there is the prize.
Love your enemies: I heard it said; some can't love their brother..
Then again, I heard him say: love me; more than brother, sister, father, and mother!
And, our own lives too!
Man, this does seem hard to do!
He exalts the humble, and brings down the proud-
So who will meet him in the clouds?
I don't know, for whatever that's worth.
But I can praise him, hear on earth...
For no man can praise him from the grave-
While breath is within me, while I am free, not a slave; before the darkness comes, and death draws near;
I'll finish my smoke, and drink down my beer.
-
Author:
Valiantstar (Pseudonym) (
Offline)
- Published: July 5th, 2025 01:52
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Comments2
A strong poem of faith. Well rhymed and written. Nicely done
Your poem walks the tightrope between spiritual yearning and everyday truth, pairing scripture with smoke and beer. It’s a raw meditation on mortality and deliverance, where praise is still possible in flawed, earthly moments. The speaker doesn’t claim certainty, only the urgency of choosing light while breath remains. In its closing lines, the sacred meets the secular; grace spoken from a barstool.
Yes, indeed.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.