I'm positive that he brushed me walking by,
Snickering as he passed, whispering "you're mine; you're gonna die."
I thought nothing of it,
I dismissed the slight, to divert my attention from it,
I mean, nobody wants to die, or even think about it.
But, in reality I was living the popular lie.
Easily, I slipped under the covers at night
With no time to reflect because I was too tired,
Worked to the bones.
Sleep meant escaping the groans,
The groggy feelings.
But, all that diverted attention kept me from seeing the end of these actions.
I was living for false satisfaction.
Even the money I made couldn't be spent
Except to assist my poor attempt to reshape the life I'd bent.
I was a sad sight for the soul-seer,
Even though on the outside you may have thought me top tier.
But he knew, and he told me the truth.
He told me the end was death for my days wasted slaving for praise tasted,
Tasting like sand in my mouth, like held gold turned oil,
As if the feast you stored up suddenly spoiled.
The end of my actions was no good, and he knew.
But what he never told me was what I should do.
He left me with no hope.
He gave me no rope.
He offered no help.
He just laughed at my sorry state.
Then came the Samaritan who had compassion.
He saw my hollow life and didn't wait for me to ask him.
He just busted right in, seeing me, the emergency,
Analyzing my wounds, assessing my injury.
He saw that I was helpless, and he just graced with His care,
I had faith that this man was bearing a burden none else would bear.
I was a wretch when he found me,
Waiting to die aside the road of life.
But, he found me, and instead it was death who died that night.
