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The Hour of Death

Tears flow slow, we dont know, the day time or hour but someday we all must go, cliche you reap what you sow, the curtains close, its the end of the show, no more snakes in the grass for me to mow, I took several seats now I'm in the front row, A little longer I wanted to stay, but my God wanted it this way, sadly we cry thinking of our loss, I was an employee but with Christ I became a boss, death is not a punishment cause Jesus paid the cost, he loves us so very much he paid it on the cross, he saved me from worldly evils so I'm found & never again lost. Rate this poem:(3.75 / 4 votes)
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Submitted by JhainDoh on January 04, 2021

36 sec read
14 Views

JhainDoh

Death is sad but I want to explore the beauty in death. I am most free when I write so I will write ugly beautiful truths. I hope to inspire teach and motivate through poetry more…

All JhainDoh poems | JhainDoh Books

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    "The Hour of Death" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 24 Jan. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/59801/the-hour-of-death>.

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