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The Centre of All
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


The Centre of All


However high we seek to dream

Regardless how we try

The Lord alone will reign supreme

On earth and in the sky


Man’s not the centre of all things

The truth is far from blind

Whatever song world wisdom sings

What theory floods the mind


Yet man walks proud and lives in doubt

The fool shows no concern

The blind can’t see what life’s about

Whilst bound in sin they burn


The rich may think they have it made

Though like the poor they die

When life and hope begins to fade

They look and wonder why


Not always were life’s conflicts planned

Till God the thought conceived

That we one day should walk His land

Through faith in Christ believed


God’s secret; is the living Christ

His Son of virgin birth

The Lamb He duly sacrificed

So truth could flood the earth


God’s Son of mortal flesh and bone

The hope of life to be

Removing hell’s satanic stone

Setting the captive free


Not few will think this statement odd

Even believe it lies!

But so is man without The God

That opens blind man’s eyes..... 

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Submitted: Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Last Updated: Tuesday, December 30, 2014

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.

Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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