A Vengeful God
HE sees it all.
A man hugs his children goodbye.
His is a dangerous life, driven by belief.
Whatever it takes, he had vowed.
The world needs to realize the one god.
Dust billows as he races down a deserted road.
He repeats a verse to himself,
And tries in vain to steel himself.
He gazes at a spectre, a quarter of a league away.
He wants to scream,
You have no right!
Patience, he whispers.
With trembling hands, he pulls out a long cylindrical object.
Patience.
He hoists his weapon and carefully aims.
HE was watching.
HE knew.
He had been given a chance.
HE had to Intervene.
Missile off the rail! Said HE.
The servant obeyed,
And from the heavens he struck,
Fire from hell.
Far beneath drifted the man,
In a cloud of crimson.
His god was dangerous, he had known.
His weapon lay nearby,
In a thousand shards.
A quarter of a league away
lay four of his brothers,
By a canal. Dead.
And the GOD’s warriors walked away
with smoking guns.
A torn piece of fabric fluttered in the wind
near the man-no-more.
It bore a single word.
CANON
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