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But for This Cage
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

But For This Cage

Upon The Wind, I long to soar

Above the clouded sky

To rise to fly through Heaven's door

To dwell with Christ on high

 

But for this mortal cage of clay

This jail of flesh and bone

I'd be at home with Christ today

I'll feel no more alone

 

But one is far from being free

So long as Satan rules

Till disobedience bows it's knee

And dies the death of fools

 

Till then; man's cursed to walk the earth

To toil through which to eat

To suffer pain whilst giving birth

To suffer sin's defeat

 

But praise The Lord who gave us breath

Who loved us whilst in shame

Who freed from sickness even death

And gave a brand new name

 

By Heaven's grace, a child may fly

May soar as none before

Can see and know we'll never die

When time becomes no more

 

But for this flesh and bone right now

I'd rise till high above

At Jesus' feet, I'd humbly bow

And sing my song of love

 

And yet one thing I understand

One thing I've learned whilst here

Since all is in my Saviour's hand

I've nothing more to fear.....

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Submitted: Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Last Updated: Thursday, November 16, 2017

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.

Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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