Who is in control.
Is God who says so much yet little is heard
a Sheppard of a skeptic herd.
Is it the past
foundations which will not last.
Is it the present
a flower unopened
Yet to be honored
a frame, a picture waiting to be discovered.
The future which already knows the truth
Yet refuses to tell the story to unfold
beggars belief to hold
was my soul to be sold.
I'm standing in the trenches
waiting to climb new fences
death or life on hold
time has power to unfold
Many a life a story maybe to told.
Who will know.
I am the only witness to my time
Yet the there is someone else to shine.
It can not lie
not sound nor image
willing to compound
My conscious.
My consciousness the greatest witness to be found
was my time well worth the layer in the ground.
Even before time is extinguished
before life is perished
a journey to return home
I must honour
life past, present, future
a will that seems to roam.
Judgement only comes in truth
no man shall escape
this final hour
will it be sour.