He stands in the valley
Domain of the dead,
The cries of the fallen draw near.
The graves are a tally
of all the blood shed.
His hand slowly trembles with fear.
The air teems with tension,
the demons they dance
thrashing wild with unbridled elation.
In this dissension
He readies his stance
Pressing forward without hesitation.
The bodies, a multitude
file behind him.
A legion afflicted with sin.
The clang of their shackles
are heard from afar.
The pound of his heart beats within.
Then darkness descends
so thick you can feel it
as chills rip the air like a knife.
A dark figure bends
from the depths of the valley
as the demons bow down in the night.
Slender and serpentine
up from the shadows
the Enemy stares with dismay
at the helpless in shackles,
he looms high above them
unhinging his jawbone to say:
“Disgusting, unworthy, unlovable lot
you’ve all fallen short of the glory of God.
You’re putrid, unfaithful, your life is for naught.
Your bodies would find better purpose to rot.
Your tongues praise your “king”, then you curse with the same?
You hypocrite, foolhardy, children of shame!
Bitterness holds you, you can’t walk away.
Your past is your bondage, you might as well stay.
Your tongues made for scorning Your eyes made for lust
The King that you serve is a God you can’t trust
your hands trained for murder, drip red with your guilt
you can’t run away from the blood that you’ve spilled”
Your flesh is your chamber, carnality craves
Your pine for fulfillment makes way to your grave.
God cannot forgive you, so why even try
Draw closer to me, and you surely won’t die.”
He stands his position
uneasy at heart,
the crowd to his back cry in pain.
His mind on a mission
he raises his head
hand gripping the blade without shame.
His eyes lock the enemy
bitter and callous
the sword in the midst of the fray.
Directing the steel
to the Enemy’s brow,
he steps toward the Devil to say:
“My God is a God of omnipotent power
His grace like a hurricane force.
His voice like the ocean His eyes glow with Fire
His love: an unstoppable source
and the word of my Father is living and quick,
Pure and convicting and whole.
A light to my path and a lamp to my feet
It severs the marrow and soul.
Touch NOT the afflicted for righteous are they
It is written that Blessed are the meek.
It is written that Blessed are the thirsty and pure
for blessed are my brothers that seek.
Worthless and sinful are things you accuse them
No man was made perfect, YOU know.
You’re quick to reform, twist, contort and confuse them
and strike when my brethren are low.
The poison you whisper convince the afflicted.
You pick at their wounds like a crow.
Dead are the seeds of confusion you spread and
you’ve nothing but falsehood to show.”
The demons, they shriek with unparalleled terror
as shadows were filled with their masses.
The blade pointed high between Lucifer’s eyes
with the power no shadow surpasses.
Through the air, silver gleaming, The sword made it’s way
As the Enemy twists out of fear
The darkness was severed at once with a sweep
with the sword of the spirit held near.
“Though captive were they, their bondage is broken
We’re free by the blood of the Lamb.
No powers of darkness can touch His anointed
So Satan, I’m taking my stand.
It is written His coming is soon to behold
Minute hands prophesy your demise.
I rebuke, in the name of the almighty King
I will fight till His Glory arrives.”
Edward L H II