A poem by Duane H.H. Lyon It’s a heavy climb for the young to attain.
How lonely it must be, attempting to gain an earthly name of fame. Worldly fame is the lottery of a flame.
Blown oubt in the winds of life, mixed in with flattery and strife. Youth races by and all have an appointment to die.
Come and worship Him for the rest of your mortal life.
You ...