When He Returns

Do I yet long for His coming? For He returns...
Whilst I comb my hair and then stir the potatoes. Watering my basil and speaking out, numbers, my playlist, watching the highway from passenger seat, dreaming of dreams, asleep upon my pillow. We walk hand in hand, browse aisles. We talk about things and us. We travel...
waters are red.
a moon will turn to blood.
earth screams from her sinful ground, and hurricanes twist the ocean in fury.
her mountains tremble before God as the ground folds up, caves in
and birds fall from the sky.
We mock and jest and know more than everyone else. We move the ancient landmarks and push back the lines of our fathers; we know best. We think wrong and make it right.  Unnatural actions and abused men want to become women ( for they even know that women are made for man). We hear of bloodshed and children ripped from their mothers wombs, dismembered and put in the trash. We read of children exploited and adults purging life from their hearts, jumping from cliffs and slashing wrists. We sigh and get a headache, so depressing all the news! Oh dear.

Does the blatancy of sin, cause me to weep, "oh Jerusalem, Jerusalem?" Satan barters for the souls of men, does my heart beat for the salvation of mankind? Time is slipping, slipping and the harvest heavy, swollen and falling to ground...

There is a reward for those who long for Jesus' return. A requirement, too..  will He come for those who do not long for Him?
And for those who love His appearing?
A crown of righteousness.

Life is simple. Souls and His return.
But I've made it very, very hard. So much so, I'm unable to look up and look out. I am very full of me. And now how easily sculpted, adapted to a falling world, for which I was never created.

The agonizing outcome. Lost souls and deceived Christians.
And I was privy to it. All along.

Dear God, save me again!


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