A Poem By Sir Pendragon
Everywhere I look, The Cross
The World an Empty Loss
Like Gold Dross that drips on Moss
The Fumes consume, as people Presume, this world a Tomb.
What lies ahead for people stuck in their heads? Their souls painted on touchscreens unable to understand.
When will The Cross appear, heralding the time is near? For this broken world to pass away, and in its place be raised a Kingdom of Glory—unending.
Man seeks immortality with his machines, when rather he should seek for the eternal meaning.
The Cross makes this world nought, the sparkle diminished in its shadow, exposing the charade and circuses that hold men captive.
Hate the manna of the day, Discipleship wains as people are busy about their important Things.
To be entertained the order of the day, as families give away their precious rays.
Calvary the mainstay, Christ the only Hope to rescue masses clamoring for the Rope.
Do you want go be Healed? Or do you want to join a Guild and Build on the Victim Field?
The End is Neigh, time Flies, people Die, and the world sings Lies.
Count it all Lost save Jesus and His Cross.
Amen.
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