Dark and narrow is the road that I travel.
They say golden crowns are at the end; yes immortality.
This road changes and sometimes the prize is hard to see.
The crowns disappear, an empty end.
The sidewalks are but ashes of my past;
My adversaries waft these in my eyes.
I am blinded and forget about my Love;
With painful cuts my mind is sliced and replaced with sin.
My armor shatters as glass, my shield taken.
The breastplate is no more and my sword melts away.
Yet, I trod.
Spirit moves my limbs and stirs a little hope;
My security fails and time also pulls everything by, goodbye.
My resources depletes and those passing seem insensible;
Careless, selfish, lurking to consume some weak soul.
I often lose focus, lose the essence of my travel; why is this so?
A grey storm came and with the pouring showers my tears blended;
Dark clouds ghostly roamed the sky.
Still, I trod.
A thunder bolt lashes my skin, my being flickers in and out;
Black and silver, black and silver.
Alas, my being seemed fully drained;
I slowly, slowly fell to my face.
Swiftly, my heavenly helpers bore my tainted body from the ground.
With my Lover’s grace they anointed my head, the cuts were healed;
With aloes my grief was drawn out, my face was no more pale.
A new armor was given, one of iron, I could hardly bear;
Then to my being power was given, it became Light.
With the Word I was fed, from a divine fountain Living Water was to me given.
Then suddenly, I could see the crowns again, still I trod.
-Evangel-Poetess Prisca
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