fading light

there's a greyish darkness

outside my shutters

like the fabric

of wool

filtering

the residual

light

subtly

of what's left

to another dying day

if it weren't for

the criminals

in the black house,

(some call it the red house),

it wouldn't be so

. . .

i look at the leaves

by this grey

cold hearted light,

to that

of yonder

fading image

of sir oak tree.

who i know

only by familiarity

of his friendship

he is stately

having more righteousness

in even one of his leaves

than the entire

side of unrighteous

godless,

so called leaders

across

the globe

for they are like black holes

the collective lot of them

UN

wef

the who,

(definitely not the band)

because they emit no light

they suck it in,

causing

death by war and disease

by greed

and anti God stratagems

to what's what's left

to another dying day

i recognize him,

mr. oak,

by his sad limbs

and opaque leaves

now blackish

which beg,

robbed,

of the residual

fading light

beyond this,

past my concepts

of political quasi

spiritual perceptions

my mind of sight

takes me

to edge of this infinity,

portions portal

of space

back to my other friend by day,

beyond the oak's form

there, . . .

a floating former

meadow,

once green by memory's eye,

now dried,

a dirty yellow,

like the wicked in government

some,

who despise the people,

there,

over there,

on what i know

to be ground

is a grey yellow,

like dirty straw,

yes,

dried grass

once green,

as if it once fed a horse,

young and vibrant

now,

a pale one

this ground,

now dull

in this fading light

of another dying day

silhouetted

by

the grim

remaining photons

of swallowed light

gulped

by the greedy

globalist

illuminati types

. . . into this seeming void

i too float

carried by my weary

mind,

flesh so weak,

mind once so strong,

now laid to rest,

shackled by the darkening

scene,

set before my sight,

made dim

by the fading light,

to dark

. . . with my memorized eyes,

just a thousand yesterdays ago,

like a calm before,

a coming storm,

like the shaking,

that is just around the bend,

coming like a freight train,

as sure as the rising

of another bright sun rise,

like another judgement day,'

like another parting of the red sea,

like the tranquil stillness

just before the threshold of

that coming storm . . .

like just before

the closing of Noah's ark

door . . .

i gaze deep,

into the invisible realm,

that speaks to me

of a coming shaking

that now is

intensifying,

and fury plummet

in violent force,

disrupt this scene

i know,

will turn to black,

i will not leave you destitute

nor leave you blind

in travail

void of hope

peer into the darkness

await the light

come my people

he,

the LORD,

says,

come into my chambers

"til the upheaval be overpast

in my presence find your comfort

and see the coming light

return

in utter glory

the things you see now

though dark,

will be bathed

in light,

and truth

and you will fear

no more