The Scroll

There is a star.
Gazing down.
With a frown.
It shines like gold
It glimmers
Shines hope.
While the whole world
Their divine appointments.
The moon is bloodshot red.
Men look up in horror
They never bothered
It’s too late to make amends.
The throne of God
has opened his book.
Out jump the numbers
that was recorded in his book.
The others shivered in shame.
For mocking the king.
The lamb of God.
He judged the great and the small.
And turned to the ones
Who refused to believe at all.

By Rosalind Alexander

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