Each moment in his life
Brings him choices
About whether to walk
In God’s way,
Or to walk in a way
Of his own making—
Whether to be accountable or not—
Whether to do good or not—
Whether to love or not—
Whether to be wholehearted or not.

And he does not realize it
As it happens,
But he leaves behind him
Each moment a growing
Swath of decisions—
Millions of choices long by now,
In a mosaic as unique
As his fingerprint—
His own mark upon this world—
His record in the Heavenly Book of Life.

And his trail paints a picture of him
That cannot be effectively denied
Once the Judge
Has turned his attention to it.

And the Judge declares that
That is what the man is—
The collection of his choices.

And the man is surprised that
His many good intentions
To do better
Did not make it
Into the record,
For he had thought
That they,
And not his actual choices,
Were what he was.