Beneath The Crimson Sky

A Poem by Joey Wilson

This is a poem i wrote when all felt wrong and I wanted to write to make it right.

Beneath the crimson sky I fly
and I look down and sigh,
For the world has turned to disaster
and no one knows the heavenly master.
The one who rules above all with a golden heart,
and knows that everyone has their own little part.
For in the creation of the Earth, the Lord paid many dues,
and very few people even look for the clues
that show that their lives are ones worth living,
and that everyone should keep on giving.
But in the end a suffering is due,
avoiding the people who listened to the word and sat on the pew.
A pain that will not affect the clean and the pure,
a wrath that all others will have to endure.
Will anyone see that in all His glorious might,
There is a heavenly and saving light.