Weaving of Words

Weaving of Words

Weaving of words -
I am a poet from my birth.
Seeing through the clouds,
I can reach the kingdom to find the truth.

Everyone is blind.
While I have been a Seer from my youth.
Life cannot become so kind.
For the chosen, we suffer until our death.

The mass is the worshiping fiends.
They thought themselves how to ignore the myth.
Our Lord already made and send
Everything we need, yet they have a need no feel enough.

Like pouring water to dried up sand,
They want to take everything into their purse.
Whatever they get in their nasty hand,
Looks like precious metal covered with filth.

''Time has come'' – the voice from the Lord.
“If you have faith, show it on your face.”
“It was I,” I cried out loud,
“I did what thy son thought as of from the grace.”

“Where is others?” asked the Lord.
Said I, “Others were persecuted in our place.”
“You must have warned,
John saw what would be at the end with disgrace.”

(... to be continued.)