"Would Heaven Be Empty?"
Imagine all the saints of old
Never having been on this earth.
If we were the first generation,
What would Jesus find us to be worth?
Would any alive today show compassion
As the disciples showed toward this Man?
Or would we all be too self centered
To even hear the Masterís plan?
Who among us could count themselves worthy
Of an honorable mention in the Good Book?
And surely who would write it,
When most wonít even take the time for a look?
Would heaven be empty if depending on us?
Would Jesus have even been born?
Or would our Mary have had an abortion,
To protect herself and the Babe from the scorn?
The rain falls softly
in this quiet little town.
I sit alone on the sofa
in my long warm gown.
I wouldn't dare to break the silence,
for my family is asleep.
Our respect for serenity
is something we must keep.
I wonder if they're dreaming,
and if their dreams are sweet.
I hope their sleep is peaceful
and consists of no defeat.
Dreams can be a heaven
which we willingly explore;
or they can open the gates of hell
to sorrows we've never seen before.
Some nights you just can't sleep
no matter what you do.
I suppose this is one of those nights.
I just hope that I pull through!
It's bad enough now,
but wait until tommorrow.
I'll crawl through the day
with not a second to borrow.
I've tried sleeping pills;
I've tried counting sheep.
Niether one worked;
I just couldn't sleep!
I think I'll try again.
One more try could do no harm.
Maybe I'll fall asleep...
just before I hear the alarm!
"The Price For Love"
There are so many people
who don't understand.
Love can't be held
in the palm of your hand.
Love can't be bought
with new clothes or wine.
Nor with money,
or luxeries so fine.
Love has to be earned
before it is real;
through tenderness and kindness,
and being honest about what you feel.
Being there for the good times
doesn't prove that you care.
When you're going through hard times,
those who love you will be there.
So all I am saying,
is that true love is free.
It is ruled by the honest;
just as it should be.
The storm rages on outside.
I seem secure in sitting here in my chair.
A sweet scented candle burning brightly,
I appear cozy; as though I haven't a care.
It will not upset me if the lights go out.
Of the dark I haven't a fear.
I care not if the roof leaks in places,
as long as it doesn't leak right here.
I am not at all frightened to be alone
on such a dark and stormy night.
Although I was once hit by lightening,
it's brightness to me holds no fright.
Have I become strong or unshakable?
Has a stormy life given me thick skin?
Not in the least. But this storm is small,
compared to the one brewing within.
"The Hidden Villan"
He prowls like an animal
As he lurks in the park.
Friend, foe, or stranger;
beware him after dark.
He'll strike before you know it
like lightening from the sky.
He'll turn your life to ruins
and make you want to die.
He'll sneak into your life
and in your house will dwell.
He'll destroy all that you've worked for
and make your life pure hell.
So beware the hidden villan
creeping up inside your head.
For if you can't control him
You're bound to end up dead.