The dark spirit spread his midnight cape,
Tattered cloth one could not escape.
Under roiling skies tinged with red,
The reaper scythe on its work thus sped.
Those that preyed upon the weak,
The hooded figure flew to seek.
Those that plied a wicked way,
The price of life this day would pay.
Whether the sky is dark overhead,
Filling one’s heart with mournful dread,
Or light of sun shinning down to earth,
Each person is weighed from time of birth.
The winged host will judge on balanced scale,
Against redemption or the devil’s hell.
By your freewill the path you’ve chosen to lead,
Goodness or sinful black hearted deed.
Matters not which god you pray,
They all are one on judgment day.
Cry your mystic words hypocrisy sotten,
Eternity is sealed by piety misbegotten.
In cold earth lay the graves of untold number,
Corpses sleeping without restful slumber,
Waiting the call given at a time foretold,
When names are read from perdition’s roll.
One may think that religion’s words will save,
Foolish creature bound as dogma’s slave.
It is not that preached which is everlasting
Holy water, leavened wafers, prayer, or fasting.
It is the kindness, charity, and love’s work done,
The spiritual existence of which flesh we are one.
The air, the sun, the trees, water, creatures too,
They all are life as life is in each of you.
So many will fall into the void of oblivion,
For the waste of creation they were given.
With respect each creature one must cherish,
Lest you are judged and your soul does parish.
Look into yourself, find the light burns bright,
Guiding life’s journey through this fitful night.
The hand extended in charity to all is a token,
In you lives every prophesy that was ever spoken.
It is not in a temple of stone, glass and wood
That you will find the only righteousness and good.
One must look to where their heart leads them true,
Finding the answer to salvation hidden in each of you.
Copyright: 2009, Donald Harbour