‘Til heaven quakes and hell erupts
Judge not the souls of man
But be brave and do not disrupt
The nature of a plan
Put into place and made with hands
Much, much superior
From where I stand and far more grand,
I am inferior.
Without water thy soul does rust
Water thy own garden
Believe in thee, in thee—I trust.
And receive thy pardon
From thy fierce and fiery hell
Of thy unwanted greed.
If not, I am destined to dwell,
Lost, with nowhere to feed.
Copyright © Mike Butler