Ascending To Heaven

When poets pen their brand new rhymes, The ink anoints each page, Each holy word to Heaven climbs, Ascending at that stage, Evaporating one-by-one, On thermals to God's Throne, The Father shares them with the Son, So all their wisdom's known... Some poems please them oh so much They're shared with angels, too, As if each felt the Master's touch, Proclaimed His point of view... Perhaps you wrote that Jesus bled, That each soul's saved by Him! Perhaps your poem's framed and read By saints and seraphim! If not, maybe you're not that good, You haven't yet excelled, But let's suppose one day you could, Your poem then beheld... What wondrous thoughts inspire those Who please the Lord above? Till your turn comes, God only knows The poems He will love...