Wednesday, February 18, 2015

The Vision

Prologue: 

Alone in the woods,
along a dark musty path,
a broken, sore girl,
places on armor that lasts.

Each day is a battle,
of foes unexpected, unseen...
and her daily time with God,
brings the comfort she needs.

The Vision:

The warrior, she rose,
on the damp misty day,
laced up her boots,
and knelt down to pray.

What carried her on,
was an unspoken hope,
a wisp of a wish...
born on a path long ago.

This hope nearly lost,
as the trials combined.
The people fought back,
and support vastly declined.

Alone now, unsure...
Just begging to flee,
drawn on by this hope,
that's drowning, unseen.

Deep in her plea for direction,
she dreamt of a battle...so distant, a blur...
Instantly, she jumped on her saddle,
and road, till fighting and death consumed her.

Shields clashed.
Bodies dismembered.
Armies stood.
A day to remember.

A glowing light,
shined brightly through the mass,
a sword driven on,
A most kingly drawn path.

Standing up for the good,
the pure and the lovely.
Unseen angels surround,
and heavenly hosts summoned down.

From the ground she's surrounded.
She saw no way ahead.
But the devil, he's scared,
and whispers..."Death, fear, and dread!"

They proped up her shield,
and carried her sword,
her will may have faltered...
But He is The Lord!!

A thunder crash,
brought an almighty storm.
Beasts flee from the field,
in a hazardous swarm.

Truth was won,
on the fateful, dark day.
And an awestruck warrior,
stopped to give Him praise

The vision now passed,
the girl rose on up,
renewed in her spirit,
for Christ was enough!

He gave her a message,
to carry her through.
The hope that was lost,
has now been renewed.

She doesn't know where,
or how...even why!
but she knows He is there,
and the Son is her guide.

The battle she's on,
has already been won,
written in history,
from the day it begun.



The Death and Life of TRUE LOVE in America

There is an epidemic,
Growing deep in our souls.
Devastation has been implanted,
In generations long since foretold.

We seem not to know the cure,
Though one readily exists.
And now time is growing colder,
As we sink further in the mist...

There are still a faithful few,
Who know the path to light,
And these steady souls are eager,
to stand up, pray, and fight!

But the masses run away
Saying, "We're much to smart for this!"
Passion is their guide,
And hopes float on a wish.

This passion is a flame,
That quickly bursts to light.
Yet, when tormenting storms rain down,
Embers fade into the night.

The lights are growing dim,
blackouts down every street.
The quick pulse of flames dispersing,
beating in the rhythm of defeat.

Yet, where there's hope and courage,
and people left to fight,
warmth and love will draw them,
like a pillar in the night!



(I dedicate this to those fighting for love and marriage that is true, not a wisp of emotion, but that is long-lasting, forever, through the trials in life, scarred and imperfect, but beautiful!)