The supernatural being arises;
And His blessings, He pours forth.
It seems to me His love,
It's undying.
But the world and I don't see eye to eye.
And His blessings, He pours forth.
It seems to me His love,
It's undying.
But the world and I don't see eye to eye.
Who's to tell if this being is true?
Who's to care if He isn't?
His love for me
carries away my troubles
So why should I bother with fiction or fact?
It seems to me the skeptics
who surround us in this world,
really should go back to something
that's worth being debated.
Why hate the thing that loves the most?
Could it be because they're scared?
Who cares if there's no tangible proof.
There's love, all around.
Why can't that be enough?
Who's to care if He isn't?
His love for me
carries away my troubles
So why should I bother with fiction or fact?
It seems to me the skeptics
who surround us in this world,
really should go back to something
that's worth being debated.
Why hate the thing that loves the most?
Could it be because they're scared?
Who cares if there's no tangible proof.
There's love, all around.
Why can't that be enough?
2 comments:
Yes, I did enjoy! Good poem, Mike.
Bravo, Mikey! Bravo! That was a beautiful poem.
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