Written in respose to 'The Garden' by John W. **** on hellopoetry.
Paradise is lost
Who can restore it's splendour?
Who is worthy?
In frantic despair he stared
A myriad faces stared back
No muscle flinched
No eyelid flickered
Like the silence before the scream
Eyes fought to make out
Even the tiniest of movements
Despite the massed numbers
Above, below and all around
The stillness was gigantic
And he knew then, the end of hope
The final appeal had been dismissed
And cold horror wrung out the air
Until the grainy finger of an old man
Pointed, resolutely to the right.
To a lion whose muscular frame
bore a victor's wreath of torn briars;
whose eyes spoke judgement and mercy.
'Ecce ****' declared the old man.
Revelation 5:1-5
Then I saw in the right hand of him who was seated on the throne a scroll written within and on the back, sealed with seven seals. And I saw a strong angel proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals? ” And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it, and I began to weep loudly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it. And one of the elders said to me, “Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.