The king laments that wickedness
Goes rewarded while the just
Are punished for their righteousness,
Frustrated just because they trust
In the Almighty. I fear he's right,
And at first I question such a rule,
And then I wonder if I should
Be grateful, because I, a fool
Am often wicked, undeserving
Of what the righteous would receive.
If that is so, should I be glad
That that is what the king believes?
Should I accept that I am wicked
And hope perhaps for that reward
Which comes, according to the king,
On those who live by bow and sword?
I am a fool, and yet, perhaps,
A fool regarded with a love
That sees beyond my simple mind
And tells me I am good enough
Through the power that rewards
Or punishes according to
My faith, which leads me to believe
I am not wicked before you.
Further, I am to relearn
That things are not as they appear.
According to what I am told
The wicked have a lot to fear.
I am not one of those who live
As the kind laments. It is not true.
I am neither wicked nor
Do I deserve quite what they do.
My God is oft misunderstood
But being God, he bears it well,
And judges both the right and wrong,
And even those who cannot tell
Between the two. And so this fool,
Unsure, confused, will choose to hide
In simple truth; right or wrong,
The king will let the Lord decide.
postscript
I tried to say something with this that didn't quite come out right. I think my inspiration is waning. But I still have a week to go!