Imitation Of Life Poem by THEODORE MOSLEY

IMITATION OF LIFE

Walking in the wilderness of sin, the rivers of unbelief become the foundation of mortal graves as they fed their flesh of tomorrow.

Turning about the footsteps of unworthiness were residing with idols of fables that are captured in the fields of solemn feasts.

Cultivating the ways of love the hands of the enemy reaches for destructions and they sang with the instruments of David.

The imitation of life resides like a flood on the steps of Ahijah seeking asylum for him that pisseth against the wall.

Profound and empty the gates of hell drowns in the eyes of love unforgiven to be cast off forever in afflictions.

Seeking to be seen for divers' speeches, the walk of life becomes a burden for corrupted crowns tasting the victory of now.

Anticipating the here and after, love was lost with lies that assimilated bodies of truth; depart from me I never knew you.

Like the rod of Aaron that bloomed with almonds in the sight of Israel, the imitation of life will bloom with the fields of death.

The horn of strength is calling for souls from the clouds of heaven when the doors of life begin to cry out for salvation.

Seated with faces of jubilations, the way too life is heard on the ears of consecrated words; take thine ease, eat, drink and be merry.

Heard out of time his soul remained embedded in passions of accolades that formulated his time into showers of earthly honors.

The imitation of life holds his truth for the broad way of destruction that cast out demons in His name.
Having dedicated the dreams of his lips for stardom, his eyes activated pleasures of days and nights of filthy lucre for happiness.

She entreated the well springs of her delights as she ascended her walk with royal apparel to be seen of men.

Showcasing her talents for engagements of surpluses, her womb of sacrifices are tormented within her beauty for approval.

She expires with tears of loneliness and her soul took flight with the imitation of life that she rested upon for deliverance.

Upon looking into her destiny she encamped the walls of her needs and her abyss of love drained her thoughts of peace.

He looked for love and found nights of disposable tears and his escape became his journey of lost eyes for healing.

Hearing the sound of their heart, the valley of dry bones acquitted their walk and arose with shouts of, we are victorious.

The imitation of life precedes, I am the way, the truth, and the life; no man cometh unto the FATHER, but by me.


Written by Theodore Mosley
June 23,2015