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Beyond the Shores
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Beyond the Shores

 

What reason has man to live for?

What dream is left to dream?

If death remains the only door

Beyond life’s ebbing stream

 

Perhaps a span of seventy years

Of sunshine snow and rain

Of love of joy sorrow tears

Of struggle peace and pain

 

With faith and doubt daily at odds

Religion fights for souls

So many paths so many gods

So many man made goals

 

Willing, trusting, seeking the way 

Faithful hopeful and true

Learning striving hoping each day

For life for love and You

 

I see Your hand work everywhere

Revealing crystal clear

There is a God You must be there!

Just waiting to appear

 

The sun the moon the stars at night

These naked eyes can see

Surely there’s more surely I’m right

Safety must somewhere be

 

Beyond the shores of disbelief

Above the rolled back skies

Lives grace lives love lives sweet relief

And You alone who’s wise

 

You must be there You must exist

Alive and well on high

The Lamb The Christ who won’t resist

To raise me when I die….. 


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Submitted: Monday, November 14, 2016

Last Updated: Monday, November 14, 2016

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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