The Hour Encroaches (A Poem)
What’s this? A second post during the week? What is this madness? Well, my questioning little friend, I’ve decided to try an experiment. In order to maintain my creativity and keep me working, I’ve decided to start writing and posting once a day. These posts can take any form: a blog passage, a rant, a news discussion, or, in this case, a poem.
Now, let me preface by saying that I don’t consider myself a poet. I’ve had a few teachers tell me a couple of them were excellent. Others have pointed out my less than stellar usage of [insert format here]. So, uh, don’t expect Robert Frost from this poem. Just sayin’. Enjoy.
THE HOUR ENCROACHES
On the wings of prophecy,
He did descend
To retrieve His many sheep.
Among them He counted loss,
Sorrow, and sin
Growing like the untamed moss.
For them He wept bloody tears
Shared in their pain
And dispelled their corrupt years.
On the Cross, He hung His head.
“It is finished,”
That is what He, at last, said.
Now you and me, we are free
From the bondage
That enslaved us most cruelly.
He holds us tight in His arms.
Rejoice we can
In the crux of Holy charm.
Reborn to live and to serve:
Spreading the Good
News through our God’s written Word.
The last day fast approaches,
His will be done.
Amen, the hour encroaches.
