Midnight Spirit

When my ears hear the call
And my eyes settle on wings above,
The Raven flees the volary of my mind.
Golden Eagle, Holy Dove enter in its place.
All is right, all is well—free, free, free
From the Flames of hell.
But idle distraction takes me away,
And I leave open the door of my cerebral aviary.

My ears hear the beating of wings familiar.
I come to my senses and sprint for the entry,
But she’s already through the gate
She’s stolen the key; I’m too late.
She’s stronger now, also more cunning—
Not to mention, all the more stunning.
There’s a flash of white, then I realize
Day has turned into night—something, something isn’t right.

All I remembered was changing;
Her beauty was already fading.
Pitter patter, tremble tremble—
This isn’t her, it’s the devil.
My heart is racing, my hands are shaking
The wings of the bird before me flap violently;
A crackle and croak, Satan appears amid a sultry smoke.
He had taken a Raven’s form, this entire time it wasn’t her.

Now, we’re face to face and eye to eye—
He’s crooked, ugly, and no longer disguised.
A snarling smirk emerges from dry lips;
Every aspect of his being is burnt to the crisp.
He reaches out his hand to my face;
I want to run, but I am frozen in place.
Then the silence is broken by a sound from above.
A whirring and cooing, the melody of a single Dove.

The devil’s demeanor then did break;
He cringed and crumbled into a snake—
His primitive and putrid Garden state.
He stood his ground as much as a legless fiend could.
But the Holy Dove my shoulder now bore
Continued its coo, a battle cry of spiritual war.
In the distance, a scream pierced the night.
Calvary’s call, the Golden Eagle was in flight.

I saw its approach, over the trees;
His golden wings gleaming and gliding with ease.
The serpent gave up its stance and slithered away,
But the Eagle swiftly landed with talons unsheathed,
He crushed the serpent’s head beneath His feet.
At that moment, day broke through the night and the Sun rose
To His rightful place. While Eagle and Dove took roost
In the trees, my mind and soul calmed—I could finally breathe.

Jordan McFarlen


From: Dust To: Dust

The desert dust rises and it falls; the silence calls.
The sand sings songs of sadness and serenity.
The monsters in the wind wander aimlessly.
Made from dust only to return;
Wind chasing, breathing and dying.
Bickering, clambering and crying.
Discontented souls, the restless dead
Searching for their happy end.

There is no joy apart from the Creator of this walking ground;
The King who defeated death waits with holy crown.

Jordan McFarlen