Salvation and Heaven through Faith in Jesus the Christ

My grandfather didn't believe.
My father doesn't believe.
I believe, and in that belief 
understand how much I don't deserve it.

How fitting if there were no heaven.
The faithless don't want it.
The faithful know they dont deserve it.
The gift of grace is entirely up to the giver.
We don't deserve it and can't earn it.

Our faith rests in a promise,
A confirmation of the spirit
in which we choose to trust.

How ironic to me that my mother would come to believe
and my father should perish.
Christians shouldn't lie, even to themself.
Yet in the name of sentiment and sensitivity
When it comes to death
Christians make alliances with lies.

My mother had a wake with

dozens of flowering plants that I bought for my yard 

but had not yet planted when she passed. 

And was buried with her parents

God's provision for his own.

My father however being so far from the bulk of his family

will likely have no remembrance 

and no place to rest from lack of funds.

When he passes. 

Quote

... They work payday to payday until death comes to claim their souls. ~ The First King of Shannara

A Psalm of Life

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real!  Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.


A Psalm of Life
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Who said that love was fire?
I know that love is ash.
It is the thing which remains
When the fire is spent,
The holy essence of experience.
~ by Patience Worth

Assurance by Emma Lazarus

Last night I slept, and when I woke her kiss
Still floated on my lips. For we had strayed
Together in my dream, through some dim glade,
Where the shy moonbeams scarce dared light our bliss.
The air was dank with dew, between the trees,
The hidden glow-worms kindled and were spent.
Cheek pressed to cheek, the cool, the hot night-breeze
Mingled ouir hair, our breath, and came and went,
As sporting with our passion. Low and deep
Spake in mine ear her voice: "And didst thou dream,
This could be buried? This could be sleep?
And love be thrall to death! Nay, whatso seem,
Have faith, dear heart; this is the thing that is!"
Thereon I woke, and on my lips her kiss.

~~Emma Lazarus

Are you saying Yes
but I don't hear it?
Are you saying No
and I just fear it?
Are you saying Run
but I'm to near it?
Or am I just numb
within my spirit?

Love can’t be measured
In moonlit romance
love is the skid mark
on pure snow white pants
Love isn’t yearning
for her touch when she’s gone
love is going down there,
and finding she’s on

Love isn’t furry
or flowery and cute
love is tonguing with passion
when you know she’s just puked

Love’s got spinach on its teeth
and cheese between its toes
Love belches, love farts
And love picks its nose

Love’s fat, love’s wrinkly
Purple and blue
Love’s dimply, pimply
And rash-covered too

Love blinds with passions
And foolish ideals
Open your eyes to the worst
And you’ll know when it’s real

~ © Ant Phillips, London - 2001