POEM
Alone, I presume,
As my heart reflects on the world itself.
The sinking shadows buried beneath,
The filthy acts commenced without conscience.
How deceitful the hearts of men;
Once a bright world, now darkened.
Blood, trampling feet,
Blasphemy against the Holy One.
Mockery, and the saints buried.
Another imitating Him,
Drawing souls to their graves.
And I hear of another,
Hear them call themselves
"Antichrist."
Never thought that could exist,
Until now.
They build another creature,
Ready to speak against
The Creator of all.
But then...
A quiet reminder stings within,
That all these things shall occur.
But in the undying end,
He's going to come in might
And take His children to glory.
Let the separated depart from Him
And burn in their own evil.
Yet a sad thought still lies within:
"How many will be saved?"
