Don't Play With Fire
 
Don't feed the flames of passion kindling wood:
your members, thus igniting vile infernos-
leave paths of devastated fields of souls;
their ashy timbers build no worship temples.

The seeds of sin when sown bring forth a crop,
and on the winnowing floor must they be thrashed.
But only chaff remains - no valued growth;
the worthless crop, but fuel to feed hell's forge.

The acts, when passion's flaming fires are fed,
across historic pages thus inscribed,
are records of man's deprivated deeds:
atrocities of degenerated minds.
        
Don't play with fire, for hell burns bright enough,
And lend your members not to ember's sparks.
Extinguish all the fires your passions start,
or fuel Hell's fires throughout eternity !





  Tunnel Vision


    The darkest night is death and
 yet,
     it brings the light of dawning
 after,
    which I must envision something
 keeping hope alive forever.

        Seasons mingling ever faster,
 hastening  toward unknown
        hereafter;
  many say  has been explained
        but I not fully comprehend.

 That which eludes my
                     understanding:
        dark but temporal sleepless
 night,
         appears as just a tunnel,
             which
 I pass through seeking, 
       eternal light.





Deathlessness

Death stalks along the path I tread each day -
His bag of tricks in hand to snatch life's breath.
With cunning plans He lays in wait to clip
the silver strands that bind my heart and soul.

I know not when his crafty plot succeeds:
that destined date I rush toward with haste.
Yet his is not the choice which calls the shot
my heart's beat stops by no chance circumstance.

There is a God who sets appointed times
when strands unwind and souls and hearts depart.
Death gets the hearts and stops their clock-works then,
but souls tick on throughout eternity.

My heart will someday rot within the grave
and death may send it's worm to eat the flesh,
But I have made a choice to save my soul:
it's God, not death, who claims it in the end.


Rot Not

The man, Isaiah, prophesied:
"A child be born someday,
 and He'd proclaim He came to show
mankind the only way."

"The truth and light would come from such,
a child of lowly birth;
His power and name would soon be spread
to men throughout the earth."

The scriptures say that Jesus heals
and true salvation brings;
He must be known by us as Lord
of Lords and King of Kings.

Isaiah wrote this prophesy,
God wanted him to tell:
"The time is near . . . believe it now,
or forever . . . Rot in Hell"!