Volcanic fire slithers down the mountain.
Abundant smoke and ashes mar the plain.
Lying in the path of devastation,
Lingering to salvage one more trinket,
Expectant masses miss the Watchman's crying.
"You have to flee, before it is too late!"
Voluminous, the books that could be written
(About the foolish choices we have made)
Lack an impact in consideration.
Long years of teaching seem to be in vain.
Each individual carries his own dying.
Yet, overall He watches, just the same.
Vicissitudes in heart and mind confessing,
Although the dangers clearly seen portrayed,
Leave no room for harsh recrimination.
Lost treasures wrench their own heartbreaking strain.
Except we play our role in these theatrics,
Years hence we will regret our brazen cast.
Voluptuous the banquet we are waiting,
According to the invitation seen.
Looking forward with anticipation,
Lest any of the guests find welcome moot,
Eager, we beckon those in streets and byways,
"Yes, all is ready, just for you, complete!"
Luke 3:4-6 (kjv) As it is written in the book of the words of Esaias the prophet, saying, The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be brought low; and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways [shall be] made smooth;
And all flesh shall see the salvation of God.
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