Victory By Night

Nights can be hard, but Satan can't win if we call for help. 

In this dark and blood-dimmed night

the devil comes to call,

and with ember'd finger writes

these words upon my wall,

"You are failure, you are fraud,

a loser fit to beat the band;

where, now, is your precious God,

to stop the running sand?

You write of faith but not of truth

that's in my sight fulfilled,

and your dying's living proof

that those who hope are killed..."

These words his last, for in the East

rises the Son, to slay the beast.

Appropriately, the Five Minute Friday prompt for this week is MORNING. Here goeth nothin...

Although I know it's evening

that I am moving toward,

I still can't help believing

that it's the Morning of the World.

Metastasis is in my leg,

makes me shuffle feet,

but for healing I won't beg

because my life's so sweet.

Breath comes hard, I won't deny,

but air is cool and clean,

and if it's what it means to die,

then death's not cold and mean,

but a warm breeze from an open door

scented by what was loved before.

Five minutes! SnOoPyDaNcE!

And..

Barb's reply to the first poem and inclusive of the Five minute word.

Devil you may speak of flesh

As much as you desire

But in the end eternity

Is in the Savior's realm

For He is more

Then the Morning Star

you once were

and Hell is built 

For the likes of your

Prideful Lust 

and followers thus.

Ladron the Chief Service Dog has developed a liking for classic Westerns, especially Tales Of The Wells Fargo, so here's a link to 'Wells Fargo Wagon' from The Music Man.

Dogs are smart; they always know when they need a hand, even if it's just to hold the ice cream.