The message is true of a war,
From insight during a vision;
In a nation away so far,
Having political division.
During those days I mourned for weeks,
I did not eat good tasting food;
For the controversy of leaks,
As both parties were acting rude.
No meat or wine passed through my lips,
I did not wash myself for a week;
Merely water taken as sips,
While I continue to seek.
I was beside a great river,
While I had been looking up;
A gentle breeze made me shiver,
As a man handed me a cup.
He was dressed in a linen white,
And he had a belt made of gold;
The glory was shining real bright,
Although as humbled he was bold.
His body had looked like beryl,
Flaming torches within his eyes;
A purity that looked sterile,
His face like lightning in disguise.
His arms and legs like polished bronze,
As his voice sounded like a roar;
His agility like the fawns,
While prancing along the shore.
I was the only one to see,
The vision that was like a dream;
Felt not as real as it should be,
More virtual as it may seem.
Yet others started to tremble,
Intensely as they quickly hide;
They were awkward as they stumble,
For in God they do not abide.
No more strength that was left in me,
As my face turned a deathly pale;
As my vision fading to see,
Pleading to God let me not fail.
Copyright © 2017 Richard Newton Sherrer