to the butte,
circular steps taken by so many.
do they go?
go to gold roofs of plenty.
adorned rooms they gloat,
to all they see from the porch.
each heart is unaware,
their houses will burn as if set by a torch.
the top”, they say they are,
have no other need”, is their echoing cry.
their voice is heard by God,
will punish those that were silent to the poor which die.
majesty from God, is God,
no man can go before Him who made them.
travel your high placed trails, but fallen you will be,
before Christ you bow to Him.
Trails by Ronhales Psalm 49:16-17