Saturday

The Watchman



The Watchmen stand tirelessly,
On the walls.
Their eyes focused on what lay ahead,
They warn only, with their calls.

Change is coming,
Calls the watchman from his perch.
The weather is changing,
Here in the earth.

The storms are building,
Just outside the walls.
The clouds are darkening,
Are the words of their calls.

Many still walk aimlessly,
Ignoring the watchmen as they go.
Thinking the storm will pass yet again,
As it has before, moving to and fro.

Certain that the storm,
Could not come this way.
Thinking, that storm,
Is reserved, for yet another day.

As a fine rain,
Begins to fall.
Now the Watchman grows louder,
 with his call.


Ezekiel 33:6 
But if the watchman see the sword come, and blow not the trumpet, and the people be not warned; if the sword come, and take any person from among them, he is taken away in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at the watchman‘s hand

1 comment:

mike bullock said...

There are a lot of warnings about getting serious about God, your poem is a timely reminder. God Bless, Mike.