KRISTAN'S POEM

And the leaves that fall like rain run, orange and burnt, like an autumnal sun, across the path that, through the woods, was spun, the very sound of the hellhounds' scorched footpads
The scent of rusty death on the wind only adds to the foreboding presence of vultures cluttered in pentads, in this cardinal number, the branches cower beneath their scads, drooping with raptor weight
To the left is chained the devil's crate and from within, muffled, is a child's blate, tugging at heartstrings, but don't be fooled, it's just bait, "Pleeeease.. You simply MUST set me freeee…"
He says to you, and he says quietly, that there are six hundred sixty-six reasons why you should agree to his unconfinement, to his liberty, deliverance from his fettering
Into his rotting skin is etched ancient lettering, and from his gaunt shoulders stem wings losing their feathering, futile flight mechanisms dead after decades of his tethering, it's been so long since he last flew
And four is not always the sum of two and two when within their swollen souls is where the passengers grew, pale and writhing, you can try to run from them, too, but you can't ever truly run away from what is dwelling within you
Long gone are the days with skies of crystal clear blue, chemical clouds blanket the air, heavily hanging, puke-yellow in hue, sprint in another direction, there's simply nothing you can do EXCEPT open the door for Him, implore Him to come through
Because Hell is nipping at your heels and you're not fast enough, you need Someone to break your binds, Someone to take your tough-
Times into His capable, reliable, Holy hands, Someone to carry you effortlessly through life's sorrows and its demands
He who pulls us out of the dark, rescues us from sin's badlands and NEVER unless we choose will he EVER let go of our destructive, inferior hands
The Creator who composed us ALL from calloused foot to pituitary gland is the One and Only we should worship and praise, by sheer privilege, NOT command
And that you're lost so presently, doesn't mean that this is your end, but thinking you have any semblance of control is engaging in play, it's PRETEND
He can take what we have broken, He's the physician, He can MEND-
Deny yourself and live for Him…
Don't break before you bend