The Lord's Prodigal Sons
Fierce as cold winds blow,
On a blustery winter's morn,
The raging battle brings horrors,
Such that man has never known.
For the dark rapture approacheth,
And the Lord's wrath is at hand,
Salvation's gate now closes,
And woe is the fate of man.
I sit here now in stark terror,
As I read the prophets report,
I can't imagine any scarier,
Stories told me of my Lord...
And a man who soon comes,
To set all this in motion,
One to whom many will succumb,
A wolf dressed in sheep's clothing.
The story does have a great ending,
But only for those who believed,
Who found the message he was sending,
These few who will be received.
But what of the rest of man,
Who for pride or gluttony fall,
Just where do these men stand,
When we're through with it all.
Keep reading - the story's complete,
For after the gates are closed,
In the lake you will still see,
Those who were damned and opposed.
Now by fire we are seasoned,
Is a lesson we should know,
And thus we can now reason,
Where these poor souls go.
To learn more lessons,
And perhaps someday become,
After fair sessions,
The Lord's prodigal sons.
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