The 11th Hour Poem by Randy McClave

Man is not prepared to meet his maker
But, he is primed to meet his banker or his baker,
He lives with people underneath his thumb
He knows for all certainty that tomorrow will always come.
Every morning with certainty he awakes to start his day
Then when his day ends, to God he will not ever pray,
In his life there are many ladders and steps to climb
And with the thought of those adventures, he has time.

Man dreams and schemes and he plans his vacations
He has wishes and dreams and also kisses and flirtations,
Waiting for tomorrow he never has any worry
So, he takes his time, or waits, there is never any hurry.
His salvation he tells all that it must wait.
God, he says is forever and his love is never late,
Man wants to live each day with joy, pleasure and no sorrow;
"There, of course", he says "will always be another tomorrow".

There is always time for salvation or for his soul to save
A young man lives for decades, before he enters his grave,
Youth is still unraveling and the golden years are not yet spent
Man plans to seek God at the 11th hour, but dies on the tenth.

Randy L. McClave