Take up your Cross|
Though storm tossed billows sting and soak
And chill me to the very bone.
The earth shakes off its pent up strain,
Spits ash and rivers red as flame.
Though whirlwind cut a mile wide swath
And everywhere the pangs of birth
Cause all to wonder, 'What comes next?'
When feral 'mongst the Mad Max wrecks.
Some say rapture will spare God's own.
Some arm and stockpile fortress home.
Some drink Kool Aid in rapt revels.
Some rage and loot from Walmart shelves.
How will I stand when billows roll,
On shaky ground feet unstable?
Who made and will survive the Earth?
In those last times what keeps its worth?
Some hoard gold against that dire day.
I take no bag, give coat away,
Leave behind what's kept but with grief,
'God will provide' my sure belief.
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