Thursday, 26 June 2014

The Match

This was no ordinary football match. This was the final...

Losing one: nil.
Seconds to go.
He saw the ball,
He had to show.
He could do it.

The ball was crossed.
The whistle blew.
He headed the ball
Even though he knew.
It was too late.

He'd scored the goal,
Was out of his mind.
Thoughts of glory
And heaven entwined.
But it was too late.

He ran to the ref,
Who shook his head.
He ranted and raved
But little was said.
It was too late.

There was gnashing of teeth,
But he could tell.
He wept out loud,
A living hell.
He was too late.

But yours is a life
And that was a game.
Jesus is coming,
Don’t be the same.
Don't be too late.