The endA Poem by T.H. Dalton
A wing to fly, a rocket to glide.
A ship to sail, a radar to tell. An army to march to a country afar. Blood will flow as the war will grow. Through the air, across the water, over the land, they'll come. In the shadows of the night, they'll fight. A general to lead, an army to feed. Food will dry for an army to die. A prayer to say, a man to slay. A beach to seek, a ship to sink. The ground will shake, a mountain to brake. Land will burn as the mountain is torn. A bear will awaken, as the world is shaken. A lion will roar, the bear will declare. Water will slow, a drought will grow. An army will die, a country will sigh. A hurricane will brew, a cyclone will stew, a tornado will exist. A mist they will twist, in disbelieve they will leave. Hocus-pocus they'll be locus to gain the focus. By the land they will move through the sand. The red sea, a navy there will be, They can't defend, they will descend. A trumpet will sound, a new army is found. With an eye of flame, he came to proclaim. On a throne he'll sit, and unto the hypocrite, they'll be a misfit. Unto the sky they'll cry, why, and unto the underworld they'll die. And the throne will be like a stone. He will rule with no more ridicule. And forever and ever he'll rule on that throne of stone. © 2014 T.H. Dalton |
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