Wednesday, January 28, 2009

L.E.T.S. G.O.

And as I walk this lonely path,
With a whiskey bottle in my hand.
I muse upon the difference in my status,
From where I started and where I stand.
Joining these diverse far away destinations,
Is not a bridge solid or grand.
It is but a twist of luck,
A tiny, timid, and invisible strand.
It is not discerning to the naked eye,
But comes in view, as time flies by.
You think you almost knew it all,
And the moment after, lies the great fall.
You fight and struggle fearlessly,
But you are still unable to understand.
What pushed you from terra firma to quicksand,
Was what once you thought a friendly hand.
And again when you give up on the world,
He beams another friendly sign.
Be careful mortal again,
It's one of His cosmic designs.
So this time when He teases you,
With another innocent face and heavenly shine,
Run far away from all such traps,
And hug your foe behind enemy lines.
Because it's not what you could not see,
That did the job for you last time.
It was the gloss He made you see,
Which hid the underlying grime.
So tonight with your drink in hand,
You go laugh, wine, and dine.
Because tomorrow when you wake up,
You will give Him a run for His shine.