My son's heart

I love the heart God gave my son (well, all my children to be exact). I love his creativity, and his sister shared this with me today.

A poem my son wrote -- from God to Satan.

He’s MY servant.

He’s MY son.

He said starring straight into his eyes, those eyes of evil will soon cry.

My flag he flys.

He’s not yours for the taking.

No, you see he’s mine.

You can’t shake him, you can’t break, he’s strong.

This road he’s been walking, its been long.

Oh yes he’s hit ruts, but remember he’s strong.

Right from wrong he distinguished.

Your flames he extinguished.

You can’t trick him, you cannot break him, he IS strong.

This beat that you play, he’s heard it before.

Floor by floor he has heard it through and through.

He knows that its you.

He’s seen it in their faces.

From his thoughts he erases, the hatred he sees.

Through his eyes I am looking, I see his good deeds.

Hungry mouths for my love, he feeds them.

As they long for my love, I will give them. He feeds.

He’s My servant

He’s My son.

You can’t have him.

This battle I’ve won.

All in all you’re just tired.

You can’t handle the truth.

But I’ll give it to you.

You gave it your best, the best never rest.

But remember who your dealing with.

Through his veins, my blood’s pumping.

In his heart, in his chest.

He beats his breast, with great fury, he’s ready.

He’s taken the challenge, he knows what’s ahead.

So get ready, he’s coming.

Here he is, right on time.

Draw your sword if you’ll fight him.

Here he is, bring it on.

But remember dear Satan.

He’s MY servant.

He’s MY son.