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.”
Copyright © Michael Lerman | Year Posted 2008
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