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The Awaited One

The Awaited One

Drums on the horizon, can you hear them approaching?

Darkness rolls in, suffocating, encroaching.

 

The enemy surrounds, invading all begotten.

The story, the plan, all long ago forgotten.

 

Anguish, death, and suffering,

Lost people, searching, awaiting a King.

 

In a realm despairing that has all but gone black,

Even watchmen could not foresee this attack.

 

The king has not forgotten, did not fail to remember.

And so we still mark the twenty-fifth of December.

 

Silently the Trojan horse slips into the night,

Born as a babe, a mother’s delight.

 

Destined to become He whom none would approve,

Reviled and abhorred, wrapped in reprove.

 

But now only covered in swaddling clothes,

A tiny mouth yawns, preparing to doze.

 

Beams from the sky stream down on He who is born,

Casting strange shadows, a crown made of thorn.

 

Lighting the dark, the star pierces the black,

While sleeping in a manger is God’s offensive attack.

 

Drums on the horizon, can you hear them approaching?

Darkness rolls in, suffocating, encroaching.

 

The enemy surrounds, invading all begotten.

The story, the plan, again long ago forgotten.

 

Anguish, death, and suffering,

Lost people, searching, awaiting the return of a King.