Message In a Bottle

"Sometimes preservation is the surest road to ruin." I took a walk along the ocean down by the sea, I prefer them both together I’m sure that you’ll agree. I was the only one that was out wandering over the land, When on the beach I spied a church that was listing in the sand. Its spire was bent to the starboard side and its steeple held no bell, The walls were all full of cracks and the roof was beat to hell. Once it was the cutest church made of clapboard and of shake, On its doors was posted a sign “Christ Died for Your Sake.” I thought I’d pay it a little visit, it was the least that I could do, So I opened up the big front doors and hollered in yohoo! I was the only person there, not a single other soul. And once inside I could see that the ocean had taken its toll. The pews were still in their places but encrusted with ocean brine, Slowly I started up the aisle in search of some kind of sign. At the front stood a pulpit where a preacher must have stood, Delivering the word to the faithful just the way that he should. How did this ever come about? How did this church meet its end? How did it ever lose its direction and the love that it used to send? Then there upon the alter, lying beneath a fishing net, The opened Bible invited me, the waves hadn’t claimed it yet. I stood there reading the word as the waves lapped against the wood, And as the tide lifted the church I was certain that I understood. In the book of Matthew it spoke of the builders both the foolish and the wise, The foolish built their foundation in sand but the waters started to rise. He who builds his foundation on a rock will never come to ruin, The builders of this church, it seemed, hadn’t known what they were doin’. On the sands of exclusivity they’d built a monument to themselves, Then locked the church in traditions and stored it on the shelves. They wanted to keep anyone out who had committed a distasteful sin, The little church became a bottle and the good people died from within. As I walked I watched a while as the little church washed away, And even though its sermons are done, it still taught a lesson today. The Church By The Ocean Poetry Contest Tony Lane Poem Written 9-24-11