The Second Coming The Persian Watch

The watchman wakes to the drone of the swarm,
The falconer’s voice lost in the engine’s scream;
Damascan sands shift beneath the iron tread,
And ancient Elam stirs from its long-held dream.

The midnight hour is bruised by crimson flare,
The innocent bartered for a desert throne;
Diplomats falter, hollowed of their prayer,
While zealots reap the whirlwind they have sown.

A sign, the temple veil is torn once more;
The end draws near; the King stands at the gate.
Prepare the way through smoke of Eastern shore,
Behold the Lord who masters time and fate.

The martyrs rise when His command is heard;
The Kingdom comes—fulfilled in Christ the Word. 

By Rick McGrath, Ph.D.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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