Where Treasure Is Kept

I know where you say you store your treasure,
You’re wealthy; I see the glee on your face,
You say your riches are safe, you are sure,
But trust me; I know a much safer place.

I have seen you with nice cars, girls, and gold,
All these things will slowly become nothing,
You should listen to what you’re told,
If you listen, you are given something.

If you don’t trust what I say, ask others,
They will tell you the same thing as I do,
Go ahead; ask the fathers, kids, mothers,
If they say different, I’ll listen to you.

I’m telling you of the most secure vault,
When you feel like nothing, it’s not my fault.

Are We Friends?

Why should I call you a close friend today,
The day when I have lost all trust in you?
You say we’re close friends, tell me, in what way?
You lied to me, now that you can’t undo.

I wish I could call you a friend, I can’t,
You lied to me; let me drown in sorrow,
You threw me out to sea; I’m back on land,
I think you'll do it again tomorrow.

You want me to talk to you, I will not,
You betrayed my trust, that can’t be undone,
You killed me like a lobster in a pot,
I give up this argument, you have won.

I’m glad what you said to me is a lie,
Now that I know, my heart has wings to fly.

What's Missing In This Life?

How many people do we know who’s dead?
How many people we know who’s alive?
“I’m just glad I could help,” the doctor said,
But who really made that person revive?

We know meds help, but that’s not the lone cause,
But what then caused that person to return?
Take a moment to think right now, hit pause,
What made that person’s life make a U-turn?

You make a guess, you tell me, “the doctor,”
I say, “that’s not right” and you guess again,
You say, “because he is a warrior,”
I’m sorry, but you’re wrong again, my friend.

I hand them a Bible and say, “read this,”
“Thanks! I knew something in my life’s amiss.”

Beauty Is Easily Hidden

If a beautiful flower grows alone,
Then when it rains, the ground is not wetter,
For in a day the dirt is dry as bone,
The water’s no longer in a fetter.

The flower’s petals slowly start to wilt,
The petals are tossed around in the storm,
But then they are to be pressed in a quilt,
So when it’s done, its beauty is reborn.

To the eye, a lone flower’s pitiful,
And to the mind it may not be that nice,
But to the heart it can be beautiful,
It’s the beauty that goes without a price.

The next time a flower is seen dying,
Someone, somewhere, is happily crying.