The Visitor
The evening sun was long since past –
The fire’s warm light crept across the floor.
It was among the shadows the fire cast
That a darker shadow fell upon my door.
I rather felt than saw the vision
Of he whose presence is greatly deplored-
The messenger of a grave decision
Whose arrival can never be ignored.
He entered in with no commotion
Did this caller of ancient lore.
I felt in my heart no emotion
Nor did I shrink from the burden he bore.
“Your arrival, Sir, is not unexpected
For you all men must eventually face.
It is on this meeting I have often reflected,
And willfully accept your final embrace.
To the wicked you are a fearful guest
Who will guide them to their mournful end,
But to those with faith you bring them rest
And with that gift you come as a friend.”
As I spoke these words to the apparition
His appearance changed quite beautifully.
No longer a guise of earthly sedition
But an angel of heavenly harmony.
My slumber then was interrupted,
My dream a memory, nothing more.
I awoke from sleep so disrupted
By an insistent knocking upon my door.
Copyright © Bruce Schuhart | Year Posted 2012
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