Remembered

I must be remembered.
Remembered for what?
I must be remembered
before coming to naught.

I must be remembered.
Remembered by whom?
Anyone—please!—anyone
not yet dead in a tomb.

I must be remembered.
Remembered? Pray why?
I must be remembered,
before my last sigh.

You must be remembered?
Remembered, you say?
But you have no good reason
for insisting your way.

There once was a sage,
a Son with no age.
Eternally begotten,
a friend to the rotten.

He said,
“What does it matter if you gain the whole world?
If by your own pride in hell you were hurled?
You want to be immortal, you want to be God.
But you are quite anxious, for you are not God.
Repent of your works, and I will give you respite.
Be washed in my blood and be clothed in snow white.

You will be remembered.
Remembered for what?
That you were redeemed,
for by grace you were bought.

You will be remembered.
Remembered by whom?
By your Master, the Lord,
the Lamb raised from the tomb.

I will be remembered.
Remembered, no lie!
For I know I’m a son
of my God, the Most High.

[This is a poem I wrote today to submit to a creative writing competition at my seminary. This is one of my first attempts at writing a poem. I may like rhyme and rhythm a bit too much for my own good, though. (For a better rhyme-y rhythm-y poem, see The Destruction of Sennacherib by Lord Byron.) Feel free to offer comments, criticism, etc. below. Thanks for reading!]

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