Cyrus
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Cyrus...
President of the country,
not like any that came before.
Or... Like any that will follow.
Standing in the gap between the flood,
and the waters of eternity,
threatening to consume the weak,
kill the innocent,
and feast on the unwary.
The man was voted in by the people,
but clearly printed in the word,
his name; a Trumpet... of His Coming!
Your hand Sir, held high,
a pen, sword, a law to be made,
a few to be broken,
that should have never...
been written at all.
Blessings on you, your family,
all those that serve the righteous
cause of the Lord's plan.
The military might of Moses,
winning by the hand of GOD...
against the chariots of Pharaoh.
No obstacle before you, beside you, or...
behind you, will pull you down,
as you hold Israel high!
God's blessed land...
God's blessed people!
Killing off the minions of darkness,
in sweeping storms of truth.
Draining the alligators,
the crocodiles, and tiny slimy sucker fish...
from the swamps of our country,
in order to prepare better fields of green.
A glory to God on the highest!
Prayers to you, Sir.
Prayers to your family.
You hug our flag in your arms,
like you hold something dear.
There is no fear left in the land,
only the echoing sound(s)...
of the Horn,
the Horn of Jubilee!
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2020
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