I was, of late, the punching bag
Of a poet remiss
This does not make me blue or sad
It doesn't end my bliss

I will simply state the truth
I do not know it all
I will admit my spiritual youth
This will not make me fall

Jesus loved the little child
He put forth His Hand
He loved his meekness, so was mild
He wants us to understand

By our brains we are undone
By worldly thought diseased
That His Kingdom, when it comes
Is made for such as these

I think on things with childlike faith
I admit to this "shortcoming"
I won't have the "minded's" grace
But i won't be running

I'll face this fight with open arms
With armor from above
I won't faint or be alarmed
I'll put on my g(love)s

You think you know the mysteries
With a three pound fallen brain?
Just look up some history
That shouldn't be a strain

Do you know everything? Don't lie.
The devil has his tools
Other men thought themselves wise
But they were really fools.

ABOVE ALL... DO NOT JUDGE GOD!!!
If you don't believe YOU DO.
When you are lost, don't find it odd

THE ONE TO BLAME IS YOU.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/5/2016