A gentle thunder sleeps inside the clouds

Above these waving waters kept in stock

In case of necessary shock. I doubt

He knows the storm is coming. Still, he sails on…


The tiny mountains sit on rough terrain

Above these gracious grasslands standing firm

In wait for terrorizing wyrm. I doubt

He knows the monster’s coming. Still, he moves on…


A solid swampland moves along the bog

Above these muddy moors now moving more

Invaded by Éire’s dinosaur. I doubt

He knows the lizard’s coming. Still, he wades on…


The quiet woodlands without its kinfolk

Above these clear cut walkways shakes its leaves

In care not to awaken wolves. I doubt

He knows the beasts are coming. Still, he walks on…


A vital virus that stays directly

Above these respirating reserves dwells

In wait to cause the cancer cells. I doubt

He knows that Death is coming. Still, he lives on…


The Kingdom’s castle shines so brightly now

Above these believers whose song they raise

In angels’ chorus shouting praise! I think

He knows his King is here, and finally

he’s Home.


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