(an end times poem by me)
Life.
Normal.
Pleasant.
Why should anyone worry?
Prosperity abounds.
Minstrels sing.
Brides marry.
Shall it not continue in this way?
Forever?
But the children know better.
A thief came in the night.
He gave no warning.
We were singing and dancing,
the streets were filled,
merry folk laughed and smiled.
But suddenly it all came to an end.
The children know the story.
They’ve seen the ruins, the ashes, the utter desolation,
That once was mighty Babylon.
O, Babylon!
mighty Babylon, what befell you?
How fell you so?
How far you fell!
But one hour, one brief hour,
Separates blissful past from the dreaded now,
Which sleeps upon your wounded brow.
So brief an hour, that endless hour
of horror!
Those who remember it tell
of a bright light,
A blinding light,
The scorching light of truth,
Which flashed from east and flashed to west,
So that everyone saw, and everyone feared,
And everyone fled for their lives,
Lives already lost in lies.
And then the darkness swiftly fell,
And earth became a living hell.
The men,
The mighty men suddenly quivered in fear,
Their knees turned to water,
Their marrow to ice.
They groveled at the feet of their gods.
But the gods now fell silent,
Impassively still,
Unheeding, uncaring,
Had you sacrificed your children to them?
The gods knew nothing of that.
Had your children cried in terror and pain?
While you passed them through the flame?
While you killed them?
The gods cared nothing for that.
Had they laughed?
The gods.
Only stone, only wood,only gold.
Only falsehood.
And the men,
those wise men,
O they of hair,
Now grey of hair,
now grey of flowing beards;
How they wept as their clay tablets broke,
How they wailed as they watched their wisdom thrown down,
Like so much clay.
broken clay,
the shattered wisdom of fools,
Haughty fools!
And the rich men--- suddenly poor!
With not a shekel to their names,
Neither gold nor silver adorned their wives,
Anymore,
Nothing but shame,
With not a shekel to hide their shame,
and disgraces. Poverty haunts their gaunt faces,
and hollows their sunken eyes.
What of them? Where could they go? What did they know?
But only the children knew.
For the mighty said war,
A war had brought this doom.
But the wise men spoke of a meteor,
A meteor had wrought this gloom.
While the rich men said famine.
A famine had silenced the loom,
Which had woven their silks and their gold.
But, truth be told, only the children knew.
They lectured their elders, and said,
Was there not a prophecy of doom?
Had we thought ourselves immune?
In but one hour we are ruined.
And the whore of Babylon led you here, among the dead.
To here, to her empire of the dead.
Was there not a prophecy of doom?
Had no one asked the children?
For only a child could lead them, in truth,
in blessed truth,
only the children knew.
Upon her throne the queen had sat,
And ruled the drunken throng.
I shall know no sorrow,
She had said,
From upon her fearsome beast.
But she, too, had been drunk,
And one final time,
lifted the cup to her lips,
One final time to savor the shed blood of her vanquished foes.
Then the beast devoured her,
And she is no more.
If only she had known,
What the children only knew.
Walk now amid the ruin and see,
Where once the minstrels sang,
Where once upon a long ago,
The laughter filled the air.
Walk gingerly, and take great care,
Step not upon the dead.
For this, their grave, is now the lair,
Of demon, snake, and birds,
Of the air.
Here, once, twin prophets walked the street,
To speak with mighty voice.
Take not the mark, heed not the beast,
But in your God rejoice.
For He is light, and He is truth,
And He shall lead the way.
Heed not the beast,
But fear the lamb,
A child shall lead the way.
But no one heard
The mighty word
Which these twin prophets spoke.
The beast arose and struck them dead,
The people laughed and joked.
But when the prophets rose again,
Were lifted up to life,
The laughter ceased,
The people feared,
And then began the strife.
And God had said
This chance I give,
At last you may repent.
But still they shook their fists at Him,
And at Him curses sent.
So, Babylon, why did you die?
Did God then strike you dead?
No, not your God, but that--- your beast--- the wound upon his
head.
Sweet Mary bruised her heel on him,
The serpent sought her child.
But God the Father carried Him,
Away into the wild.
And then the serpent ruled this world,
You gave him all your crowns.
You worshipped him,
And cursed your Lord,
And struck His children dead.
But could the beast deliver you,
And give you sinful bliss?
The prophets came to worry you,
That nought could come of this.
A mighty tree grows in the wood,
Its branches tall and wide.
But in this tree there is no strength,
For rot is all inside.
And though that tree stands proud and tall,
And rules the forest now,
Its outward might shall be its fall,
Inner emptiness its curse.
And he who claimed the throne of God,
And sat there in His place,
Demanded that you worship him,
But loved you not a trace.
The Son of God who died for you,
Implored you every hour,
To turn away from this false beast,
For this beast had no power.
The Son of God who died for you,
Who loves you every day,
He warned you not to trust the snake,
The dragon must betray.
And then its evil treachery,
Descended on you when,
You would not choose to die for him,
As God’s saints died, martyred men.
And then the beast knew finally,
That he could never win.
For God is great, for God is good,
But Satan’s power is sin.
The beast could have the majesty,
As oak trees clothed in leaves.
But never in God’s place could stand,
Despite its treacheries.
The power of God is the power of love,
And Satan rules with hate.
In death is life, in suffering joy,
And therein God is great.
For though the martyrs died for God,
‘˜Twas God who died for them.
And though the martyrs love their God,
God much more does love them.
Now Babylon is passed away,
Its horrors are no more.
And every tear is wiped away,
The former things are passed away,
And now they are no more.
God lives with us,
And we with Him,
And this my friend is true,
The Bible tells us what we know,
And what the children knew.
