The Next Package

He is coming
don’t doubt it
He’s alighting where not wanted
the kitten’s swallowed
the low is done
and soon the Maw will roar
crowds will burrow
through rock and tumult
to hide from the nails, the eyes, and the fire
His perch is high, just like His leaving
a Title rides on His chest
where once He was pleasing
with healing and teasing
now there’s a storm He won’t calm
His rain … it’s a burning
like…