Things to Come
I knew a man who used to say
That G-d makes Angels every day.
Perfect in form and wondrously dressed
Each one different from all the rest.
And that all inhabitants of the Earth
Can be partakers of a new ethereal birth.
That in Man's Soul though now distressed
Are memories of a happiness once possessed.
The Earth, he said, is but a womb,
A growing ground and then a tomb.
On the other hand, he said, (take note)
It can but repeat mankind by rote
Using the same well thought out plan,
But it cannot build a perfect man.
It took G-d's son with all his light
To procure for Man Angelic might.
He said of church and palace tall
Great fissures soon will rend them all.
They have founded their altars and thrones therein
On the bodies and Souls of ordinary men.
With their concrete buildings and bars of gold
They've rustled the sheep from the father's fold.
He said they are counted all our tears
In Heaven these past two thousand years.
Prayer by rote, he said, a bird can rehearse,
Such prayer not always the way to converse.
Rather peruse a page of scripture and compare
Our conduct with what is written there.
He said the Bible is a map of G-d's intensive plan
And sufficient for all the needs of Man.
Your gratitude he said must be vocal in its praise
Of G-d and all his wondrous ways.
We shall be summoned, he said, and the dead will attend
When the Earth's given time has come to an end.
Then and only then will the curtain rise
On that great tribunal in the skies
And many a one will think it odd
They are actually going to see their G-d.
Meanwhile, loud crys of joy unheard before
Acclaim the opening of Heaven's door.
A voice is heard, "This is the place I prepared for you,
But first there's the little matter of your interview.
~~~
British Bill © 1996
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