Port O' Call

I often wonder about one's heart
and all the things it harbors
stored down in virtual ships
waiting in crates of netted cargo.

Ships with treasures of love and mercy
sailing in from Him above
Chests of charitable goods
to be given by a heart with love.

There seem to be some goods in question
their bill of lading okayed
It must be by deception
or eyes that have looked the other way.

One's eye and heart must alway be keen
to his port's lanterns warning
of signals of tainted crates
that were allowed or were smuggled in.

The Hands from Below will rub with glee
if just one enters the door
for he will hold it ajar
allowing to fill the hold with more.

Wooden crates full of writhing darkness
hid within the hold's oak walls
Fangs full of evil venom
wait in nests at your heart's port o' call.


So keep your port lamps filled with His oil
your light will alway burn bright
Hands from Below cannot come
for there is no Darkness where there's Light...