Poetry

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He delights to hold your sway.
Deception is his rule.
He's the lion with his prey,
   the king of every fool.
He knows the Word, studied it,
   like a master foe.
Along with his minion spirits
   he trods the earth to and fro.
 
He is right before you
   dwelling between your eyes.
He deceives, mixing Truth
   with your precious lies.
When he appears he's like a light,
   an angel of beauty unfathomed.
Holding your eyes and their sight
   that you'd see right through him.
 
He thrives on your unbelief
   of the Light and the dark
      to hide from you your Relief,
         that good flame of the holy Spark.
He knows that his time is short,
   that his end is imminent.
The holy work he'll seek to abort,
   that your Hope will end with it.
 
In the flames, he'll declare
   Jesus as the Lord
      along with those who have dared
         to keep the Gospel ignored.
 
© 10-24-2010

Update: I just learned this poem was featured on another poetry website's "Spotlight" section. What is amazing about this is that the site is composed predominantly of non-Christians. If I could ask one thing from my fellow-writers here is that this poem would provoke those there to consider the Gospel of Christ. Thank you!

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