An Apocalyptic Vision

Great stress is upon me,
As I pray, as I seek,
Comfort in the midst,
Of darkness growing deep.

Groaning swallows me,
My heart fills with pain,
While everyone in their blindness,
Rushes headlong towards the end.

Great lady of liberty,
Soon you will fall,
In the churning oceans of your pride,
A sign for all.

Yet they’ll celebrate, and challenge,
The wisdom of old,
Mocking truth as they stand,
On avenues of fool’s gold.

But I will choose,
To stand on the Way,
Of the rugged worn path,
Awaiting the Day,

Awaiting the Day.

Then lightening will split the sky,
And Truth reemerge whole,
While all earth will cry and quake,
As judgment unfolds.

Patience will have worn thin,
Evil will no longer reign,
And those who have challenged Him,
Will now bow at the name.


© John A Taylor, 2015

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