The Fire Of Mercy
“Lo behold, that fire in the east again,
Like yesterday as it has risen before,
That cold, cold night so bitter,
My bones rattling,
My hopes dwindled,
My faith in question,
My supplications in earnest desire.
Before the white wings of death enfolded me
And took me before my maker,
It appeared in all of its majesty again.
That cold, cold night as it was upon me,
That paradise that abandoned me,
As that fire died out
In the cruel western skies,
I live to see another day,
To see that fire rising up in the east,
Its cutting through the purple clouds
With its razor sharp teeth,
Mounting up on top of a fiery steed,
Its scepter pointed toward the west,
Its becoming brighter as it nears me.
I can feel the warming of my bones
With my hope restored
And my dreams acknowledged.
Hallelujah, I’m still alive.
Will it come again tomorrow?
Or will it leave and never return again?
Will it have mercy upon me
Like it did today?”
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