On my way up, I turn and look,
I stop and stare at an open book.
I cannot see what the pages contain,
I only hope that they lack distain.
Suddenly I am torn away,
Forever will those pages be grey;
Its too late now, I'm on my way
To face the judgement of God today.
As I approach the pearly gates,
I mourn, fearing what future awaits.
Now all I see is the Heavenly Court,
I'm no trouble to them, they make it short.
Why do I feel myself going down?
I scream and kick as I head toward the ground;
What have I done that I deserve this?
Refer to the book, you'll see all that I've missed.
Below the surface is the end of the ride,
Seeing nothing but Death makes my soul open wide;
With the book in his hand, Death says with a roar,
"You alone chose to walk through my door."
Awake from the dream, I sit up and look:
I am the author of my unwritten book.
YOU ARE READING
Random writing
RandomI like to write random bits of poetry when I've had really bad, or really good days. Please do not steal anything that is written here. I took the time and effort to do all of this. (If i post a random poem that i like, i will give the author credit...
