Loved this powerful poem by the Underappreciated Pastor. Love his line about “Now every believer has a borrowed grave”. Amen! Hallelujah!! Praise Him, somebody! 🙂
Black, cold, lonely, full of drear
A fate to us all that is growing near
Does it stop here? Does it go on?
A question that is often pondered upon.
In regret I racked my brain
Does death bring peace?
Does death bring pain?
Are grave stones mocking me?
Under chiseled stone, is that where I’ll be?
It is no doubt that I will die
But will I rot or will I rise?
Will I ascend to the skies
Or fall prey to the lord of flies?
Perhaps I’ll wither in a decorated box
Live forever six feet from the top
Like a plague thoughts punished me
For in my heart was eternity.
So much to embrace in this universe
In one hundred years you can’t see much
Then like a trumpet came a voice
It crossed the expanse from a distant shore.
Penned by prophet and common man
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