Poem: The Sunday Routine

Early to sleep, early to rise
sounds right maybe even nice.

Cold sheets, Saturday nights
that arouses dreamy sights;

It penetrates my sleepy soul
and ignites like a burning charcoal.

Waking up to the morning Sun;
No not that early just a pun.

Yes I did get ready for church
for the bible I did begin my search.

Jumped up preaching like this they behave;
We must work, we must save,
who else if not we to crave.

Like a angry farmer  who reaps not;
As is his work that which is naught.

Yes we shall save many,
Authority we have plenty.

Healing the sick by laying of the hands;
By faith not by sight should we make our plans.

Sticks and stones I end my trifle,
got on my bike to a monotonous cycle;
Of passing vehicles fast forwarding this time
Not able to think of any ending rhyme.

While walking something did weigh on my head
It was my helmet, I must be brain dead.

The door swayed open by a smiling gentleman,
Seeing that the service already began.

Saying hi to me with her glistening eyes,
Singing in a dominated song by male cries.

Our sorrow and griefs He did take away,
His lovely holy presence;yes He did stay.

Looking down at our prayers He did reply.
By faith we must receive not from the sky.

For by faith He did see light;
Before the stars and moon that shined so bright.

Jesus Christ our Sin Sacrifice
washed away all our guilt and vice.

By faith not by work,
Deceived  not by eye’s murk

By faith we say
Amen,and Of course have a good day 😀

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