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Above Shifting Sand (1).....
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

† † † Above Shifting Sand (1).....

Salvationís arms are open wide

With harvest close at hand

Loveís calling out to come inside

But who can understand?

Thereís still so much that needs explained

The bride must yet define!

But old traditions keep her chained

And drunk on putrid wine

Who counts the snowflakes when they fall?

Counts leaves upon the ground?

Or those behind a prison wall

Satan has tightly bound

While snowflakes melt once spring arrives

While leaves return to earth

Revival swift to sinful lives

Can come through second birth

The lost are blind and much abused

Godís Truth they fail to see

Religion has them so confused

Though Jesus sets them free

Heaven will rescue from the grave

Pour oil on natureís rot

Christís precious blood will heal and save

Who man and timeís forgot

But fools lay wide to death the door

Refusing Jesusí hand

Though lifeís beyond the devilís shore

Above the shifting sand

Loveís crying out both night and day

Weíve heard Him more than once

But Satanís whores refuse to pray

And so thereís no responseÖ..

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Submitted: Monday, February 18, 2013

Last Updated: Monday, February 18, 2013

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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