The Rubble Poem by John Leroy Maxwell

Where people live, where people dwell..
The jaws of death, the gates of hell..
The blackened pits, the scent of smoke..
The sharpened fork, the iron made yoke..
What tales to tell, of now and yore..
Escape to life, the secret door..
No smiles now, but tears of pain..
Just ne'er to live true life again..
For what the reason, what the joke..
As thru the Rubble, doth we poke..
Just try to live as best we can..
A little child, Woman, Man..
A sight to see, disaster cold..
An unkind fate, no pot of gold..
We, thru sorrow, make with tear..
And dread the life, we live with fear..
So little thought, compassion, love..
But tears of Heaven rain above..
The rain do fall, with bitter tears..
The hopeful dreams of yesteryears..