Aliens and strangers in a land so fair
it begs at every turn, one stop awhile
breaking the trek, resurrecting a smile
becoming to travelers, who daily prepare
for their homeland, a far different place
beyond recollection, or revisualization.
Nomadic sojourners, in rebel civilization,
all transported, planetized in space,
wanderers through time, surprised the crime,
premeditated treason, had had no trial
date set. One time, Morning Star, Belial
had one third of heaven's hosts, for all time
betrayed into following beauty, as he was
of all created beings, the most beautiful.
Swiftly isolated to the earth, undutiful
followers, in pre-trial holdings because
Creation awaited more. The doomed followed
still, for beauty blinds as does the sun
viewed directly. "I'll ask it be undone,"
the lie, the false hope, quickly swallowed.
Then, the sixth day broke bright and fair
as any day remembered where Love abounds
amid the preparation's expectant sounds.
The Maker's last and best, a loving pair,
crown jewels in the diadem of His creation,
each a soul for love, await His breath.
"If choosing to follow, Belial, be death
their lot as well?" the deceiver's summation
the instant of their creation. His smirk
the uglier side of beauty, already forseen,
"Done! Life for life, to ransom or redeem,"
Love replied. Belial, of Salvation's work,
uninformed, omniscient he is not, agreed.
First man rebelled, soon outcast, his soul
besmirched, Eden lost. Different now his role,
from the dirt, he too is but a viler weed.
Estranged prodigals, self-seduced, implore
forgiveness. Love, Mercy and Justice work
redemption's plan, the Gift making a kirk
of earth's poor altar, with equity, galore!
Each man, indicted, Justice declared guilty
and sentenced to death. Love's substitution,
His paying the debt, His death, an ablution,
restored right standing. Renewing sworn fealty
to the Lord of life, the knave, His knight
arose. "You're sure, it's done? How do
you know, it's true?" If the doubts ensue
the liar puts to you, ask him to the Light!
Love's our spokesman, believing is faith
in His action for us, a gift for the heart
to hold to. Fear, Belial must try to impart,
this work not done, so doubt like a wraith,
can arise. "It's finished", He said, to any
who receive, by faith, grace for the needs
of the mind, spirit and body. Grace exceeds
any lack, provisions multiplied, that many
may praise the supplier! If aliens await,
time passing, yearning for home, far away,
the allure of earth, has little more it can say,
to Inconnu, longing sight of heaven's gate.
Home Is Where The Heart Is
Exceptional! So unique, this happy ending,
Belial's treachery, expunged by His Love,
for all time, as far as East to West, above
and beyond anything dreamed of, expending
His Highest, Perfection bore perfect progeny
unblemished like the pair of day six. It is
natural, Love forgives, yet is true in the quiz
regarding Justice's holiness in company
with Mercy, and Grace, as He is to any part
of Himself. A ransom for all those who believe,
by faith, He has done as He said, and receive
His free gift. Reborn in spirit, the heart
estranged too long, looks homeward at last.
Ecstacy, tragedy, timeless twins entwined
forever in human history, searchers find.
Glorious story, the believer's cleaned past,
but the unbelieving, Belial, what of them?
Disbelief is itself, a choice! Poor excuse,
defending actions effecting Love's abuse,
be they indifference, ignorance or some gem
of sincerest doubt as to what his part is!
Love gave man choice, unused, he loses it;
Belial, not so gifted, chose, so recuses it!
Little doubt, the home is where the heart is!
Poems From the Goober Tree http://nathoo.wustl.edu/goober_tree.htm