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Servants or Usurpers?

The ancient gift that God gave man,
the awareness of time and distance span.
We stand now among a dwindling crowd,
our brothers and sisters whom we disavowed.
So do we care or even admit,
twas only by the gift are we thus fit.
Can our species' conscience bear,
the dread guilt weight of death we share?
Or will we run and hide in shame,
fleeing in fear to avoid the blame.

Pray that the Master's trust in us be right,
ere daybreak reveal a horrid blight.
A world in ruins, and us alone,
with no one else to mourn or even moan.
Then will we face at last God's righteous wrath,
for we have dared to tread a darksome path.
Killing His other children, our brother bands,
till we stand alone at last, with our bloody dripping hands.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright © 2016 by Vernon Fawcett

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the copyright owner, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

Vern Fawcett
710 Charter Place
Charlotte NC. 28211

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