SOON Online Magazine

Poems

Choice of Crowns
The choice was pure simplicity -
The crown of mine that I would bear,
For one was jeweled and made of gold,
The other, made of twisted thorns
With aura 'round of cold despair;

My common sense was one with self,
And I desired the crown of gold;
For fame is always near to heart
And flesh avoids all thought of pain -
I knew which crown my brow would hold!

But as I reached for crown of gold
I heard what seemed a distant cry;
As wisdom pointed towards the truth,
And told me that if I would live
Like seeds of grain, I first must die!

So wisdom points to foolishness!
My will for just a moment torn,
But knowing "foolishness" of God
Is better than the best of men,
I swiftly chose the crown of thorns!

© Benjamin Graber
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by Benjamin Graber

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