Poetry

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As for you, son of man,
The Lord is against Gog;
Prophecy says to ban,
As he lurks in the fog.

He will turn you around,
While driving you on;
Never making a sound,
Until the light of dawn.

For he will lead you up,
From the remotest part;
Puts poison in your cup,
When your day is to start.

Then he will knock your bow,
Being held in your hand;
As you drop an arrow,
In the front where you stand.

As all of your people,
Who are with you will fall;
They go to the temple,
When they hear the Lord call.

God feeds birds in the air,
And the beasts from the field;
A feast for all to share,
And the grains that did yield.

You shall fall on the field,
As the Lord will declare;
Where His plan is revealed,
For those are in despair.

God will send fire,
Against Gog on the coast,
Stopping all desire,
That causes him to boast.

It will not be ignored,
About His holy name;
Declaring He is Lord,
That they all will proclaim.

Copyright © 2021 Richard Newton Sherrer

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