The Serpent Of Old

The Serpent of Old

Through the mind’s eye
Came a vision of space
In earth’s time.

The serpent of old,
Ancient, gigantic,
Like tales of the dinosaurs,

Immoveable, immobile,
It lay on wasteland,
Earth created
By its own actions,

Rocks and soil,
Barren, burnt, consumed.

God’s light, so bright
Scorched the existence
Of this prince of darkness,

Who, for centuries
Had feasted,
On His Light,
The Light of the One,
Most High,
Our most Reverent Energy
Of Omnipresence.

The serpent,
It’s skin in the vision
Minus scales
Glowed a dull, dirty gold.

This snake attempted
To raise it’s head,
To look out over fields
Once fertile,  now dead,

It crashed down with a force
That shook the Earth’s bed,
So fat it lay
So self indulged, so over fed
From using goodness
To breed the pestilence
Of greed and abusive power
Conceived by its own head.

Unable to drink
Unable to eat
It’s own evil intent.
There it lay
In centuries of death.

©2013 C E Eksuzian, all rights reserved.

About Cindy Eksuzian

See my "about me" page.
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