Barren Cold Reckoning

I stand in the middle of a cold barren high desert.

Winds of winter howling…

Alone it seems, as I straining hear the silence exert,

Power Divine! I’m cowling…

In the Presence of this Holy sound my ideas dessert!

All dreams flee with yowling!

Whimper, return to netherworld; must die or convert!

Ultimate Truth is de-fouling…

This barren land is a cold mirror of what I am; only dirt!

In me I see the evil prowling…

Condemned if I should choose to ignore this Holy alert,

Finality! Death’s wind howling…

If I decide to remain in my barren state and reality skirt,

Defy God and rise fist growling!

Winter icy desert isolation only a taste of my future hurt,

If I deserving of Holy scowling!

Remain in a desert turned hot to burn fools who pervert,

Ignore Holy Wind’s cowling!

 

 

 

 

 


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