The sun it will be darkened
the moon won’t give its light,
the stars will fall from heaven,
the days will be as night.
The Son of Man’s descending,
they say he’s coming near.
These verses, strange to comprehend;
perhaps by now he’s here.
The pictures show him in the clouds
a-coming through the skies;
while he looks upon the faces
he sees through the disguise.
They say he’ll soon be present,
they say to read the signs,
the fig tree and the heavens;
we still can’t tell the times.
His words are here for telling;
the truth, it won’t be sold.
There are no buyers out there;
love’s latte has grown cold.
The planet waits its lovers;
the reserve has not been reached.
The walls have been erected large;
one day they will be breached
You say that you’ve been waiting,
your lamp is filled with oil;
the ocean’s growing warmer
while your hands are free of soil.
And the arrows keep on flying,
and the boats still run aground;
and no-one seems to listen,
while lies and wrongs abound.
And still the faithful servants wait;
truth and justice guide them.
They’ll not be silenced, not be still;
while love and anger drive them.
Faith isn’t in the coming,
or in judgement’s promise – threat;
in the doing, loving, waiting:
proof that faith's not finished yet.
consider this a work in progress. I thought I'd put it out there and see where it took me - Ken
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