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Chicken Little or the Egg

Posted Wednesday, May 9, 2012, at 11:16 AM

Call me 'Chicken Little,' Or, 'Mister Worry-Wart,' God soon sends His Wrath to earth, Man has earned it from the start. Believers, all, will soon be gone, The 'Non's,' be 'Left Behind,' Seven years is Time so long, When, No protection can one find. [A thought]
Chicken Little or the Egg
By Arley Steinhour 050912
(Day 32 of Omer, Lyyar 17, 5772 (Day one of Flood [Gen 7:11]))

I ask you, what really came first,
Chicken Little, or the Egg,
Better, to be without a thirst,
Or squawking to lay an egg?

The egg is something oval,
Hard shell around the yolk,
No beak to speak things oral,
No legs to run or walk.

Eyes, if any, are inside,
Blind as they can be,
Until at hatch, opened wide,
At last, a world to see.

But, then, there's Chicken Little,
Having, feet, ears, eyes, and beak,
Searching-out each 'Jot and Tittle,'
Using beak, to squawk and speak.

He hears, he sees, he listens,
To everything, best he can,
Crying out, when something glistens,
Causing something to hit the 'Fan.'

The un-hatched eggs, that lay-about,
Only knows that he did err,
Take a vote to throw him out,
Because, Chicken Little wasn't sure.

They cannot see, and barely hear,
Just enough to know he's wrong,
Though Little's words were mostly clear,
To the Trash-Can, goes Little's song.

Chicken Little, true to his heart,
Continues with his song,
Recognizing error's part,
And admitting, when he's wrong.

But that just isn't good enough,
Eggs, un-hatched, soon roll away,
Shrugging off all that 'Little' stuff,
That might just ruin their day.

The Chicken Little Day, does come,
When the eggs tell him, 'Depart,'
Though his feathers, them did warm,
They've ignored that, from the start.

He walks away, dejected,
with a heart still filled with love,
The eggs, now cold, infected,
May suffer Wrath, from God, above.

Refusing to be hatchlings,
And learning how to fly,
Eggs are fed to Burning Lake
Satan salad, Hot and Dry.

Tell me brother and sister,
Chicken Little, or the egg,
Though off key, 'Little' had a song,
And the Egg had naught to beg.

God made Adam, from spit and clay,
He didn't start with embryo, in a shell,
Adam could hear, see, and squawk, First Day,
'Little' squawking, is better than Shell in Hell.


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