Evil men in this earth may have all the cash,
And some store away heaps of things/clothing.
Yet the Godly one will wear clothes clean wash.
The pure heart'd, will divide money sure thing!
Houses erect by evil, are as frail as spider-web,
They're as flimsy as homes made of branches /leaves.
Wicked goes to bed rich- Wake up in ebb!
To find health/wealth is gone- Can God them save?
Terror crushes them- They're blown ‘way in storms nights,
East Winds snatch them all away- they're just gone!
Strong coils sweep them all out of sight, that's right,
Pounding on them with no mercy- man a pawn!
The wicked struggle to flee from its power,
But everybody hiss at them- mocks them night/day!
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2007