It comes to us all, high and low, young and old, rich and poor,
it comes, straight and true, full and bold,
the words of a heart truly versed in what counts.
The many voices call for calm whilst the storms rise - evil's on its way - they trust in what they have stored, but no such call, or malady, or nest-egg can do what truly matters...
they can never redeem the life of another. They can never provide the maker of heaven and earth with the oh so costly price to stem the violence that so corrupts our cluster of days - it would never be enough to staunch the tide, to sever the decay.
Wise and foolish die, perishing like the wealth some leave, entombed forever by such corruption - proud names laid low in ash and dust... They perish like beasts.
So reads the epitaph of all who trust only in themselves, and those who ascribe to their belief. Death alone feeds upon such, but the fate of those who look beyond our vanity will be very different. The grave, yes, will take them, but they will know a better morning, for they are owned by another.
Our eyes become taken when one grows rich, but look deeper, further, and see the end - such riches, without wisdom, is pride before a fall.
God alone redeems from death.
(Based on Psalm 49).
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