Come one, come All,
And grab a Pew,
Before, the Satan's Fall,
With Survivors, very Few.
By Arley Steinhour 091012
How many people know my name,
Many thousands, or even more,
Each time I blog or play a game,
In time I've shown my inner core.
Someone knows what I am thinking,
Others know where my searches go,
Long after I've died, and quit stinking,
I'll be 'spammed' something I should know.
Eventually, lack of answering,
And never more, search the WEB,
the system will then do a swing,
I'll be an archive, compressed, and dead.
Choices will ring, forever knell,
'Statistic' of, 'what's good or bad,'
None knows if I'm in Heaven or Hell,
Unless they've read my Happy and Sad.
There is a possibility,
That I might make a dent,
In my Praise, and Poetry,
Living long after I've went.
The reading of my words to God,
Like or not, will claim a heart-spot,
Perhaps to avoid the Iron Rod,
Missing Eternity, where it's HOT.
I'm not that special, no-sir-eee,
Man of God, I do as I'm told,
In Serving, I am Oh-So-Free,
I can talk to God, this bold.
I don't forget, that He's the BOSS,
Won't forget, that He is GOD,
He sees that I don't suffer loss,
And forgiven my need for Rod.
You, too, can have a life, this good,
Starting now, lasting Eternally,
Your heart, no longer made of wood,
In His Spirit, You're Truly FREE.