Twas long ago, in a heavenly land,
A banquet was held at the King’s command,

It came to pass, when the Lord’s poet fell,
Another was sought, who would not rebel.

Only the best were allowed to attend,
A coveted prize, for which to contend.

A great reward, was the victor’s to claim.
Throughout God’s kingdom, they’d whisper his name.

His rhyming verse would be sung for the crown,
And for the people of every town.

So they arrived, over land and by sea,
All bringing with them their best poetry.

Prepared with care for the Angels to sing,
Each of their poems was sung for the King.

Some wrote of love and of beauty sublime,
Some wrote of nature in glorious rhyme.

And so the Lord listened closely to all,
Every poem at the poet’s ball.

Then he announced he was making his choice,
And all who gathered were drawn to his voice.

The one he chose was quite unexpected,
A poet who most would have rejected.

He wrote no rhyme telling where a stream flows,
No beautiful words describing a rose.

Nothing of stars, or the majestic sea;
No part of that world, in his poetry.

He wrote of God, and of biblical things.
He wrote many tales of the King of Kings.

He used his gift as God had instructed,
Describing how life should be conducted.

No lofty words were weaved into his verse,
No scholarly books to fatten his purse.

All that he wrote, came from Heaven above,
And each soul he saved reflected God’s love.

But no one cheered as the choice was pronounced.
“We need no prophets!” Is what was announced.

“I’ve chosen him!” The King quickly replied.
“What my kingdom needs is mine to decide!”

“I’ve heard your words filled with wonder and mirth.
Of gentle beauty, adorning the Earth.”

“Meaningless things penned in masterful form,
Written to music for bards to perform.”

“No lives are saved by describing a tree.
You write of flowers for your vanity.”

“You have a gift that is second to none.
While using that gift, what good have you done?”

“What is conveyed when you write about birds?
Can the Lord’s message be found in your words?”

“Who do you serve when your talent is used?
In serving yourselves your gift is abused.”

Then the King stood and he held up his hand,
All in attendance could hear his command.

“As you depart, I would like to suggest,
Sharing the talent with which you’ve been blessed.”

“Talent like yours, a gift beyond measure,
Should be meant for all, not your own pleasure.”

“You are reckless, like the wild mountain ram,
While he, whom I chose, is a gentle lamb.”

“When next you muse, remember what you’ve heard.
The depth of your soul shines through every word.”

“Simple it is, for one skilled at his art,
To speak from his head and not from his heart.”

“You serve yourselves, for what fortune might bring.
He serves the people and also his King.”

“You must return to the kingdoms of man,
Back to the darkness where your quest began.”

“He shall remain in my palace of light,
High on this mountain, where angels alight.”

Then the King turned to his poet of choice,
He said: “Follow me, it’s time to rejoice.”

“This is your day; you are the chosen one.
From this moment on, you will be my Son.”

“You’re my right hand; you are mankind’s reward.
The words that you speak shall come from the Lord.”

“Those who listen will conquer temptation,
And those who follow will find salvation.”

“Your parables will teach them perfection,
As your sacrifice gives them direction.”

“So come my Son, you’ve a burden to bear.
For the task ahead, it’s time to prepare.”

“Drink from this cup, it is your destiny.
You are the savior of humanity.”

Then came the sound of a thundering horn,
And a star appeared, as a child was born.

So it began on that most holy night.
A poetic tale endowed by the light.

A precious gift we can never repay
Was given to us on that special day.

Do not forget; give the Poet his due.
Always remember what He wrote for you.

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