A place, where the sunken rust, and two humps a must, the end of an inland sea; One won't work, and the other wild, no place for you, nor me.
Aral Sea Song
by Arley Steinhour 111011
*I received an e-mail, and sent it on,
With photos of Sunken ships and all,
Many thoughts flowed, to think upon,
As I Wait for God's Trumpet Call.
*What was once an inland sea,
Now, Looks like a Parking Lot,
Ships that plowed the water free,
Are rusted hulks, in a waterless pot.
*The only thing that sails there now,
Are four-legged, two-humped kind,
Never more, storm waves to plow,
No dead Sailors to leave behind.
*The scene no longer secret,
Aral Sea has water, never more,
Mans fresh-water needs defeat it,
Sea bereft, from shore to shore.
*The photo's offer much to view,
and to ponder about going to sea,
Not here, perhaps, but others do,
Around the resting place, a bone or three.
*There comes a day, in about a Thousand years,
Where the Oceans give up their dead,
At the time when there will be no more tears,
And God puts 'Mortality' to bed.
*No tears, nor pain, no aging blight,
With bodies young and strong,
We who through Jesus live in 'Light,'
Exist where 'Nothing' can go wrong.