What am I doing here - a poem

What am I doing here - a poem by P. K. Odendaal – June 2020

The road that I travel is made out of gravel

Never was I told it would be streets of gold

It would be dull indeed if there was no need

or if there was no more I could suffer for

Losing my drive to try and survive

Would imply that I am ready to die

I have to hold fast till my calling is past

and cling to all things which meaning me brings

To let go will not solve how I should revolve

into a creature of use free from abuse

to serve creation in selfless elation

to maintain and uphold this Kingdom so bold

A Kingdom for those who want to stay close

to God and to Man in His ultimate plan

while holding His sway over domains far away

Some people have all at their beg and their call

But suffer much more for the things they adore

as it deprives them of peace without any release

struggling to beat the men in the street

who may never yearn for riches to earn

but are always content until life do end

having more than they need to clothe and to feed

It's a waste of time and not worth a dime

A coffin isn't tall and a pall's pockets' small

nor can your wealth buy you good health

until the bells for you toll and they call up the roll.