A Psalm

Through the obsidian skies, peering through man-made smoke A light reaches like an outstretched arm, a sword whose sheen brings tears to the wicked And knowledge that their sins are but a poison whose flower is quick to rot. Yea, the wicked call themselves lords among men and deny holiness, they know Me not. Those whose hearts are granite will be cleaved and eroded by the righteous, For their gold is but lead in My presence, their powers tremble before Mine The roots of evil drink the blood of the virtuous But they shall prosper not They will be upended by birds, and their fruits will not flower. Their seeds will be consumed; They shall perish forever. The good and just shall stand for me, and the children shall know my face, The faithful shall praise me, saying “Thou art the protector of the living And the redeemer of the departed. The powers of justice have even greater miracles in store, Surely these words shall be repeated evermore.”