Afar, yet so very near to this child,
no hope of reprieve, no false smile.
At last hope has faded with denial,
leaving a silent breathe broken and vile.
Bitter is the wild wind, the raging tides,
for truth and love has long died.
Even with the greatest of loves, lies,
lies inside one cannot abide.
Filthy faces of evils blackened deeds,
a man with empty words, empty creeds.
Among the Saints he lingers and creeps,
soon without penance, many shall reap.
The walls narrow and waters rise.
Twisting, turning, writhing inside.
Earth shall turn no more.
Time stands, for man knocks at the door.
Alone in empty dreams.
A sinister plot to wipe out the seed.
Blindly lost, laughing, following his lead.
Only with the cross can salvation be.
Copyright © Karen van Wyk | Year Posted 2015