Someone, Reaching Toward the Real

Someone, reaching toward the real, Achieved their goal with effortless grace, While another, missing the fatal shift, Rushed straight ahead without a trace.

The masters of opportunity stumble, Those who hold the highest seats, Neglecting basic caution's wisdom, Seizing fortune by its rough and scaled feet.

What's at stake is priceless treasure— For both the wealthy and those without a coin: The eternal, the only permanent thing, That something called the human soul.

You're not guilty of your birth, The where and how—not your concern. But tell me, on whose eternal keep do you depend? On Ego or on Jesus Christ?

What is success? A coin or spirit? To tell apart the wise from mad, To choose between two paths so similar Before you lose your mind completely.

Among the clever, voices raised in certainty, Who know exactly how to breathe, We often want to shut our eyes And scream against their strengthening doubt.

Don't go to those who don't care, Don't leap into the abyss headfirst, Don't trust yourself, sometimes two-faced, There's someone stronger than your guard.