I cannot yield to radical minds
that forage for fragile souls
that seek membership of the same kind.
The angry crowd screams of the intolerance
to what matter most to their agenda.
But you dare not champion your own cause for it is propaganda.
My roots are deep and watered well
I bend with ease as not to break
but understanding must go both ways.
The rule makers spread their will
upon us, but the game they refuse to play.
Abide in me they preach, not what I do, but what I say.
I'm called to compassion for everyone,
for I too may drink from the giving well.
The truest gifts come from Godly hearts to those we tell.
The poorest of us with earthly sorrow
are the richest in what God lays before us
for possessions will abandon our tomorrow.
I know not how it all will end before I lay to rest
but I know what matters most to Him, resides deep within.
For our earthly struggles will melt away and I pray I pass the test.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That is the right way to pass that test. Thanks