The chill of winter and the scorn of icy wind,
The bitter touch of death would hinder,
Hope so scorned, no faith left to spark with tinder,
His rule absolute, his throne held high,
Incapable of compassion upon the mountain top, death was all but nigh,
His verdict made with the sternest tone, his heart colder than the chill to the bone,
Any stumbler upon his realm would then soon learn,
That no love could warm, no fool dare yearn,
His pain so clear, his wound so deep,
Doubt would take hold, it would forever creep,
Like frozen pillars on the mountain base,
Would mercy neither be shown, nor any hope for grace,
His heart of stone, covered in the case of frost,
Would he sit upon his throne forever lost...
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About the Creator
Jordan Zuniga
Aspiring christian creative writer creating pieces to provoke thought and give God and Lord Jesus Christ the glory! God bless and I hope you’re doing well!
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