Nothing than Praise

I have not paid to the world as much as I owe.

I was born naked; I have clothes, house, and car.

I was born unknown; I have friends, admirers,

have even had people who love me.

My body has withstood sun, rain, wind and snow,

has been spared the onslaught of viruses and microbes,

unwanted messengers of diseases and afflictions,

but, towering, persists defiant.

Evil spirits, the fallen ones, sown in wait,

have hit my carcass, my sacred helmet,

but, defeated, lie by the wayside.

I can only pay praising and worshiping, firm and strong,

body and spirit, in hope of the re-encounter with the Creator,

sacred, ultimate and legitimate human’s redemption.

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