My soul is guarded as I traverse this plain of inequity,

For I am trapped with the shoes worn on my feet beneath me.

These shoes run rampant or suddenly slow, touching toe to heel.

Does the canvas and leather master me? Can this be real?

The shirt I wear betrays the body and every thought,

It sends me places, forgetting which of us was bought.

How foolish this sounds to let what we make control us,

But see the idols carved by hand that are served before Jesus?

Skilled into faces that cannot smile or ears that hear,

We forsake ourselves and worship this technological gear.

Devices control our lives, drinking from our devotion,

Consuming our interests, and laying claim to every emotion.

We are broken and separated from what is important,

Falsifying our pride, dissolving what is just, right, gallant.

The cause is by our cry for a need of urgency,

Ranging from news, to gossip, to a valid emergency.

But the results are the same as far as Christ is concerned,

These false images that we worship will with our souls be burned.

Give our hearts back to Jesus, the Only Begotten Son,

It will save our souls, and ensure that without us, our shoes won’t run.

Selah

_{Our Shoes Won’t Run by Ronhales} Isaiah 44:19-20