Poem: Man

[Zac Loh]

I see man as the thin metal shell of a large container,

always loud if it is knocked when there is nothing inside,

many words spoken a day by the working man for a retainer,

can truth be found in him, unless, of course, The Truth abide?



I see man as a wind which turns in many different a way,

his mood constantly changing in tune to the present surroundings,

God's well-founded precepts he chronically fails to weigh,

happily putting himself a distance from God's spiritual biddings.



I see man as fallen leaves being blown from place to place,

constantly thinking that within himself lies all the ability,

life means striving hard to get ahead and win some face,

a severe tragedy to strike before foolishly realizing... vanity!



I see man as a clean sheet pulled from the public toilet roll,

who is ready to be used, and dirtied, at this world's toilet seat,

he is easily taken for a ride on any-which-way-in-life stroll,

he wheel-and-deal, hit-and-run, twist-and-turn, and lie-and-cheat!



I see man as the crusty part of the remainder of a pastry,

it is naturally hard, and tasteless; should it be eaten solely,

such a time, when God to a man, has been a long gone history,

the man becomes this life's leftover, consumable to himself only.



I see man as an exhibition for the release of a new product model,

constantly preparing to switch channels, keeping in-tab with the trend,

not settling, nor noticing, that he is living in an unsolved riddle,

man still has the option to exit the scene; for it to ever come to an end.



I see man as the alternating screensaver of a PC monitor,

showing different, separate impressions to suit his purpose,

deception and falsehood are woven into his own interactive flavor,

baring his own soul to others means to him baring money purse.



I see man as the steam escaping from a pot of boiling water,

intimidating hot; yet finally evaporating to the above thin air,

don't have to fear any man as you make God your protecter,

no damage can be done to you; not even a small strand of hair.



I see man as the flickering particles flying-off a fiery charcoal,

rising-up dramatically, but quickly disappearing into the unseen,

momentarily burning brightly - later-on like a lone, lost, listless foal,

the leaves of a tree - man will fade from its seemingly evergreen.



I see man as a painting that deteriorates from its original color,

one fine day; he has a beautiful, profound experience with God,

ironically; the next day; he gets up looking for sin's parlor,

one hope, is use the solitary chance he got, he can no more plod.

Thus says the LORD: Cursed is the man who trusts in man And makes flesh his strength, Whose heart departs from the LORD.

Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, And whose hope is the LORD.

[Jeremiah 17:5,7]