The Horizon (Poem)

With my eyes fixed on the horizon

Always dreaming and devising
Unceasingly seeking
Never compromising

For mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the lord
And with that glory…
The destruction of the sword

The sword hath tolled its affliction
Twice the mass of its addiction
Thrice the pain of our conviction
Four times the weight of your prediction

Devour our existence
Leave not a blithering hope

Consume our resourcefulness
Not even the wealthy can cope

So I ask…
How many?

How many can stand
In the almighty presence of the coming of the lord?

And with that…
How many can stand the affliction of the sword?

The Horizon

A bitter sweet ending to a tale from long ago
Too many have suffered from a curse we all bestow

Seems like a fairy tale
It seems so dull and contrived

And most will contravene
Until our lord hath arrived

In the midst of all the persecutions and afflictions we endure

Perseverance is indeed the triumph
That will bring everlasting peace to all that is pure

Touch nothing unclean
Touch nothing foreign or maligned

Touch nothing obscene
Touch nothing hydrogenated or refined

For you came from the dirt
And to the dirt you shall return

But with your regress
Your impurities forever churn

Churning and churning
Festering and obscuring

Multiplying until no man can see
Through the valley of the shadow of death

Then what is left?

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