Epic Poem: Poets of Life, Part II

Canto 10: The Devil is Deceptive

Canto 10: The Devil is Deceptive

©02.04.2020, Olan L. Smith

I, the Prophet, sit in a field. The booming voice of the Word

Still rings loudly in my mind, and I contemplate what I'm

Told. I look about the field and notice a difference,

The corn lays flat, bent out in every direction from where

I say, "I'm the cause," no longer am I the force of goodness,

Rather, I'm the force that smashes, hitting the earth with

Such vigor that it flattens not only the corn, but the trees

Surrounding the field as far as my eyes see. I wonder

Why I'm so destructive, but I know better than to

Ask the Source. I, as Agent, as Savior, am

The healing salve that heals the wounds. and I

Know I will not yield until I die. I'm

The Son of the Almighty. This is the dimension of torment,

And I must save them from their own misdeeds, their

False gods flung around, as easily as candy thrown

From the floats on parade, but this is not a spectacle.

There are no exhibitions in this agony to cheer the pain

Of forgotten merriment. Here they stick their heads

In their hands, and wonder what has happened in a flash.

Where has my world gone? Who steals laughter?

What replaces it with gloom, with misery, with grief and

Depravity? How can one man, even the Son of

God, balance a world where despair is worshiped.

How will I stop the stampede to the abyss?

Over half the world thinks this is the way to redemption.

Salvation comes with good! Not evil, and as children;

People must know right from wrong; good from