What will you do
When I take you away?
From the Beast
In isolation upon a high mountain
And seat you there for time and more time?
What will your sins do?
Murder me?
Kill yourself?
No place to run?
No place to hide?
No sin to eat up
Like a Big Mac with Fries?
Oh hungry little ones
Ye are sinners.
Nothing to quench your hunger
Nothing to quench your thirst
Sitting there your heart
Pounds heavy
Of nothing to do
What will you do?
Can you be still?
Who will you sin against?
Who will you sin with?
What is there to live for?
Is there something to live for
Alone with oneself?
Can I be still?
If necessary?
Am I strong before The Lord?
Holding my arm,
He knows His own.
And He can Trust us.
Out countenance is like His
Set in the Stone of righteous suffering
None can hold back the Fierce wield of the Sword that set us apart in the
world.
Forged in Tribulation
Scourged in isolation
Filled with Conviction
By Resurrection
And Revelation
We are ready.
The Swordsmith
Poetry By Anthony James
From all-creatures.org
SPIRITUAL AND INSPIRATIONAL
POETRY ARCHIVE
