Stress
deceptively creeps
riding a beastly black horse
born of your need
my need
our need
to remain in control
when we
should have let go.
Now It holds a black scale
not balanced.
With vengefuul arrogance comes Worry
atop a ghostly steed
no victory there
only death,
never ending hell.
Unless -
just out of reach of the big black clouds
comes a Blessed voice
still -
quiet -
"Salvation...
the accuser has been cut down."
Then a gentle breeze
blows
sweeps away the mist...
I see,
New Jerusalem
I feel cool waters
flowing
over me
through you
around s
healing springs!
Forgotten -
the horsemen stumble
diminished
try to make a final stand,
but they begin to fade
melt away.
The Lamb,
The Lamb must rise,
nothing unclean
can remain here.
we must sweep
prepare the land
plant new seeds.
ramblrWrites.com 