This is not the life for me,
This life of hoarded treasure.
To take all, to give nothing,
Above all to pursue one’s pleasure.
It all becomes empty after a while,
Finding meaning in one’s self.
I only found loneliness,
In amongst material wealth.
I was told to create my own purpose,
For that was á la mode.
Apparently man is capable of his own joy,
The decipherer of his own code.
For there is no eternal life,
Nothing beyond the grave.
For apparently we came from nothing,
So there is nothing by which to be saved.
Yet there is talk of Gods,
Though no longer identified by that name.
Now we are the captains of our fate,
Each our own height of fame.
For what starts with self, ends with self,
The beginning and the end.
Post modernity the new wisdom,
From deep within this truth was sent.
But this is not the life for me,
For there is a nagging inside.
Feels like fate calling,
Somehow it’s what I’ve tried to hide.
It tells me I was born for a purpose,
Born for something more.
Tells me I am headed somewhere,
And this life determines if it is sky or the floor.
I follow this guy called Jesus,
He’s been around for a while.
He came to die for those,
Who dealt him his exile.
He says the only way to live,
Is to give up your life.
To live by that,
Which your core tells you is right.
For that same man,
Who hung on the cross,
Was the one who formed you,
He is the living God.
Follow Him every day of your life,
Spread the Good News.
For that is what He made us for,
And it is up to us to choose.
Where we will spend our eternity,
For it will come all the same.
Will you spend your life making yourself happy,
Or raising the name above all names?
Ryan Lane 2014