In the dark of the night, I write about the light, paying prices made of season and wisdom with no bite. I challenged them each morning to investigate my plight. Capture all the images of parlors in delight.  On horse back drawn to carriage with Parliament in sight, Britain made an exit without respecting English right. Days are not remembered where no vessels took to flight. You think us simply worthy of seeing through our spite. For Kingdom’s sake they make their break hoping escape within their flight. Dawn to noon, noon to night, moon to star and stars til light. Answers come when question might, dissolve the bonds that control the kite, that it may reach unintended height, perhaps escaping human sight, kissing off to be polite.

Days meant for proper fight do not meet squarely with metered might, who wish to wallow in sure delight, how much is in a Terabyte? With armour shorn and sandals tight we trample fiefdoms and herald’s blight. Tis day past four and the tea’s not quite, tepid yet with sugar white, oh magdelaine, orange scent so light, will you douse my appetite? In castles green and lily’s white and golden dreams of fake pyrite. I dash aground in fresh respite Tailor made for the Jebusite. Hurts feelings over missing ball invite, we conjure up the black and white, to dawn, to dance until it’s light, we hope they get the music right.  Whisked away it’s quite alright to cancel meetings penned on vermiculite.

With Heaven’s Home within our Sight, why wouldn’t we stand and fight? Eternity our just invite to escape the proud and erudite, that they might clamor within the light to escape the judgment and hide in night. When the stars be dragged from within our sight and plunge so deep from stellar height, what name shall ring out with grand delight, A Name to set all things right. His feet they land not left then right on mountain’s crown, split quite right, that day that day will be such a sight for each and every Israelite.  He’ll bring with Him all Heaven’s Might to render instant end to fight. Mustered millions will have come to fight the Light, instead they’ll receive an pounding smite, with blocks of ice and fire’s bright, he’ll speak their end before the night. The valley full, vulture’s delight he’ll mount his horse with the saints in white. We’ll stand in awe our tongues we bite that we never had to join the fight. For God’s Great day was His To Fight, To take His Fill til Wrath’s Respite.