PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

How many doors must be slammed in my face

before I get the picture?

How many times must I suffer

the depression from the doors being slammed.

You say be patient, and I feel I have been...

But I must now ask, When?

When, I ask, will it be my time?

I know I'm wrong for wanting it now,

for I know it all comes in time, but again I ask..

When will it be my time?

I see others around me, who work and who strive,

who claim they are walking with you, Lord.

They give so little yet they get so much,

and yet their time is filled.

For I know, Lord, you hold the keys.

From death and Hell you delivered me.

I'm growing more desperate with each passing day,

waiting for the chance, waiting for my time.

When, I ask, will it be my time?

I know I am wrong for wanting it now.

For I know it all comes in time, but again I ask...

When will it be my time?

The answer comes within the question.

For you see, that time is not upon this earth.

For those who receive their treasures here,

lose those treasures when they leave.

And those who are lucky enough to do without.

Have their treasures when they go.

It isn't my time now, Lord.

Because you have given to me,

The time which is meant to last a lifetime,

that time, is eternity.

Thank you for listening to my ranting, for enduring my annoying rave.

For through this asking about my time I realize, that it was my time which you did save.