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The Celt’s Friend

The moon shone in a soft glow of silver light as he made his way to the seashore. His little foot caught on a root making him stumble but he knew better than to cry out. The blood trickling down his knee made no impression on his childish face. He had a mission.

By |2021-02-19T05:13:04+00:00November 1st, 2019|Prose|

Blasphemous Pinch

"Every year, every citizen of Smyrna had to burn incense to Caesar. There was as great altar there – Caesar’s altar – and you had to go every year and burn incents to Caesar, and receive then a certificate that you had done that. Without a certificate, you would be persecuted because you were violating the highest law in Smyrna. To be without a certificate, as must have been the case for Christians who would not say Caesar is Lord, but only Jesus is Lord, was to risk discovery and death." Though this poem isn't about the Revelation church of Smyrna, this excerpt from John MacArthur serves as a reference point for this poem.

By |2021-02-19T05:16:38+00:00October 6th, 2019|Poems|