Storms: An Angry Night

Printer-friendly version

Storms: an angry night

As I lay in my bed tonight

Storms outside matches my inner fight

Visions of spiders weaving the web of fate

Of witches on the moor with a future state

But today I resist sin’s siren call

Avoid the trap which would make me fall

My weapon words of truth spoken out loud

Only thing to drown the terrible crowd

Today instead of fear I feel anger within

At the seductive power of my sin

Today I can only feel the rage

And push the monster back to its cage

But anger cannot help but fade away

And my darkness will wait to make a play

But tonight is mine, I escape the grip

Avoid the trap and do not trip

Too bad that tomorrow is another night

And another battle in the war I fight

So I must keep ready sword and shield

And guard my will not to yield

Until in God’s house I rest my case

And he wipes the tears from my face

I will rely on Him to declare me free

And my debt paid when Him I see

This is the hope that helps keep me on

Struggling through the storm until the dawn

up
74 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

It is said that the "Christian" army

Andrea Lena's picture

is the only one to bury its wounded.
My weapon words of truth spoken out loud... Only thing to drown the terrible crowd
...Until in God’s house I rest my case...And he wipes the tears from my face...

May He bless your day today and in every day to come!

She was born for all the wrong reasons but grew up for all the right ones.
Con grande amore e di affetto, Andrea Lena

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Addiction

I've never felt addicted myself, but this sounds like the poem of an addict. E can't just change er ways and lead a peaceful life; e has to fight every night, and during the day, I suppose.

At first, the emphasis on 'night' had me thinking this was something about vampires. They only go out at night and their sin is preying on humyns. Then, I thought the poem must be more general. An addiction that never fades or weakens, that must feel horrible.

Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee

Ready for work, 1992. Renee_3.jpg

Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee