Seven marks the days
in which each week must pass,
the timing of the Sabbath,
the seals and bowls of wrath;
just one beyond the six of man
seven foretells the future,
the essence of God’s plan.

Then we spin our spider’s web
adding line to line
to every new opinion
within the realm of mind;
we add, subtract, and multiply,
dividing by fractions eight,
only to exclaim, “My it’s getting late!

“I’ve discovered secrets unknown to man;
I’ve seen the black abyss;
I’ve fathomed riddles lost in time;
I’ve made the serpent hiss;
My name will be engraved in gold
for all to now behold
the wonders of God’s bliss!”

“Meaningless!” says the teacher,
“You’ve been wrong each time before.
Just seek to quietly obey
and walk through that one door,
then down the narrow path of life
feeding orphans on the way;
do this, and you will live, I say!”