Hill now gone, a soul deflated
The wicked winds began to cry
Every fiber of his being
Motionless and now abated
Uttered pleadings quickly fleeing
Such phantom hands upon his cloak
Whose tightened grasp his spirit broke
Her sullen plea did heavy weigh
When earth below then gave away
Retreating hands no help to give
Alone again if I should live
A sottish vision had he viewed
A ghostly icon he’d conclude
While far from sober, he was shrewd
Such bothersome and empty void
Gnawed at his will and grew annoyed
Inside it welled and upward rose
Soon due to flare he did suppose
Gaining speed his downward spiral
Emerged a clear and sudden thought
With labored breath and grimaced smile
He blurted out…” I ask why not!”
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22"For my people is foolish, they have not known me;"
A point that so many still miss, unable to see
"they are sottish children, and they have none understanding:"
As many so called great men are in for a very hard landing
"they are wise to do evil, but to do good they have no knowledge."
Choosing it with there own freewill with not so much as a hedge
27"For thus hath the LORD said, The whole land shall be desolate;
yet will I not make a full end."
Words that can so easily be read yet for many too hard to admit
Oh your ear why don't you lend
28 "For this shall the earth mourn, and the heavens above be black:"
Oh to thee do I warn in your fear of the Lord you should not lack
"because I have spoken it, I have purposed it, and will not repent,
neither will I turn back from it."
Even you must admit in the understanding of each bit what He meant,
That it was on Him, that you quit!
Jeremiah 4: 22, 27, 28
To many this may seem grim.
But that's the point, for many it is grim.
But there’s a winter,
Of a splinter,
Of a sinner,
That must be removed,
Either by reprove,
Or lining up in love’s groove,
The winter will come,
Or the mind will learn,
To discern,
How splinters,
Enter,
Into the mind’s eye,
Like a sty,
Either way evil will end,
So that life may begin,
The gin,
Of the cotton,
Forgotten,
Of the first begotten,
Even the sottish,
Is of the begotten,
But his lying about love,
Just so he can be gov,
Will never be love,
From above,
For there is no substance,
Without Love’s faith,
Love makes it’s own cake,
Without which the mind would quake,
In it’s thoughts which are fake,
Without the cake,
Love has baked,
Even for the mind’s sake,
When humanity be,
It’s mind’s twiddle dee,
It can never be,
For it has no power,
To make,
Much less bake ,
A cake,
For it’s thoughts are fake,
Without love’s self, it quakes,
For love’s self is,
The cake, already baked,
From above of love!
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