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.