David Wallace | + Follow Poet |
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Return of the King

A scrabbling clawing frenzied roar
Responds to trumpet call
And bleeding hands tear wood and nails
From sanctuary’s cloistered halls

And in that darkened vale of fear
The fearful hordes await
With cries for absolution
As they press toward the gate

With righteous hand and flaming sword
Doth Justice make divide
Right to those who heeded call
and left who never tried

For in the light the oath foretold
Returned to claim his own
From death and grave to liberate
Reward for each a throne

The light from aeons in the void
Breaks desperation's hold
The promised grace of sacrifice
Of innocence once sold

Angelic choirs in joyous praise
With rapturous voices sing
O grave where is thy victory
O death where is thy sting

Amazing grace once gifted me
And gratefully received
Has nurtured fed and watered we
The promise have believed

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