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- Poems & Poetry
The future, a deep dark cloud
Rain, storm or clear away it may.
Clear to no one is the faith at hand
Or the ingredients of a certainty.
God knows best, we alter
And we lay at his altar
We cry, may his will be done.
But in our hands, resides the choice.
Now choice, a simple word
Troubling the calm waters.
A strike at a wrong spot
And all goes down.
But right from wrong, even us know
In us it abide, our conscience it is called
Let it cause us to shiver in dread
When we go in the wrong.