Who can trust come what may?
Who understands enough to find the way?
Putting labour in a bag with holes:
Idols of silver; idols of gold:
All to be thrown to the bats and the moles.
Durable riches and righteousness, for those that confess:
Blessed to be a blessing: comes with rest.
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Author:
Valiantstar (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 10th, 2026 10:22
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 35
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
Most poetic. Well done!
I quite agree with Katie B. & no kiddin .. Neville
Beautiful !
A weaving of words that takes the thoughts to task. Well done
Can't take any of it to the grave. And the amount of trouble we go through in life for such vainglory and striving! 🕊️🙏
Valiantstar, this carries a strong prophetic pulse. The imagery of idols, hollow labor, and wealth slipping through open hands all builds toward something wiser and steadier by the close. “Blessed to be a blessing” lands with real peace after everything that comes before it. Beautifully done, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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