The preacher stood to give his monolog,
While the people replied in their dialogue.
He spoke of the journey, a travelog,
And read commandments from the Decalogue.
Each story begins with a firm prolog,
And life writes its close with an epilog.
All our days are all listed—a catalog,
Of mercy and grace through all the fog.
The truth is inscribed on a humble log,
More faithful by far than a loyal dog.
It warns of the trap in a darkened bog,
And calls us to rise above the world’s smog.
