The Messenger

Death stood before my eyes,
The lamb laid bleeding at his feet,
A stench held the air around me burned of sulfur and of pine,
I reached out for a book held within his hands,
Its pages dripped a crimson color,
The names held of the chosen ones,
 Seemed to breath a life of their own,
The pathway walked he and I,
The ground like shards of glass,
 Laughing my feet bled upon the ground,
His words were of an ancient language,
Spoken strong and rhythmic,
Warnings of things yet to pass,
Where was this place I saw,
The willow knew of my mind,
The birch turned away,
Holds the sparrow sings the song,
Many voices I could hear the beggars and thieves,
Beckoning a way out,
Lost souls stranded in the darkness nowhere to run,
 For the ones who escape this,
Hunters afoot sets the traps,
Nor ones will abide this is the last time,
Hide thy eyes away from him,
Lest they take your soul away from you,
An empty shell is all that remains,


G Davidson ©
June 13 2011