The Death Of Pain
Many view life as endless opportunity;
all about what we achieve and gain;
from sorrow and sadness we seek immunity;
though ahead, lies a lifetime of pain.
From the first moment each of us is born;
we identify with the beauty of the rose;
within its magnificence lies the ugly thorn;
the metaphor of how beauty grows.
Grasping that rose we feel life’s pain;
a warning to our arrogance and pride;
only the Master is permitted to reign;
out of love; for our life; he died.
Our guilt inherited the Master’s pain;
for we had sought the forbidden;
all that we lost; is counted as gain;
and, by His pain we’re forgiven.
We were the thorn on the perfect rose;
our pain was the price we gave;
death was the penalty, God imposed;
then, new life came out of the grave.
We were warned, “we reap what we sow”
and, in life, it was pain we planted;
when we plant pain; only pain will grow;
so we must take our pain for granted.
Only in our death will we find relief;
God is planting new seeds, above;
we’ll be reborn, because of belief;
and the Master only plants love.
Monty 9/1/24. # 2,310