As we trot along this cobbled path,
passing leaves of green and buds mid-bloom,
life seems right; the darkness of night at bay with all its gloom.
Our carriage of white portrays rescue from God's wrath.
The sun is radiant and the birds rejoice in its warmth.
We're passing through a town, large in size;
as joyously as the singing birds, we smile on the people.
In passing a church, we're in awe of the steeple.
So tall is the pinnacle, white-washed and nice,
we smile bigger seeing the people as on our side.
But as the sun sets in the west and the coldness of night
draw nearer in haste, the beautiful people change.
Once friendly and welcoming, humorous and kind, now strange,
hateful, and bitter they seem. Their faces, weary and affright,
are thin and pale where fullness once was.
We look on the once busy streets, now one huddled mass.
What happened to the happy, beautiful people?
A sudden crash and we search for the source. Where is the steeple?
Alas! In the road lies a cross, once high in the sky, now in ash.
What people would profane such a symbol of God's love?
By the red glow of the setting sun, our driver quickens our pace.
Searching for a road to travel out of this wretched town;
every turn brings us back to their haunting frowns.
Where smiles once were, worry and fear etch into our faces.
The people watch as we become frantic. They're emotionless.
God, where are you?
At one's suggestion we cry out in prayer. God, answer us!
Then I see myself in the crowd and begin to fuss.
How am I there when I am here? Then, you are there too.
One by one our company appears in the crowd. Panicked,
we become angry. Confused,
we become angry with God. Pointing our fingers in the sky,
we shout curses at "God the Most High".
He's the one that led us, He made us come.
Our carriage has stopped and where an angel once sat driving,
a man turns to us; perfect teeth shone in his grin.
"My friends," the handsome stranger says, "It doesn't have to be."
What could he mean? Where is the angel? Who is he?
Knowing our thoughts, he coolly replies, scratching his chin,
"I am a friend and the angel has left you."
All gasp at this; some shriek in terror.
"Calm yourselves for I have good news!"
Some of us exchange glances but all is silent as he continues,
"God has left you but I can help you through this
evil town. Trust me to save you and it shall be done."
God has abandoned us? Do I believe this stranger's tale?
"Friends, if God was here, would you be a face in that mass?"
He made sense to us. We had been outcast.
"Listen to me, I love you and my plan will not fail."
Simultaneously we submitted to the stranger.
Lord forgive us for we know not what we do.
Lightning cracked across the sky as the sun
disappeared, but where was the moon? The sky held none.
It was to be a full moon as far as we knew.
Then we realized with guilt in our hearts that like
the moon, we no longer reflected the Son.
God had never abandoned us; we left Him. And for what?
The beautiful stranger changed then in every appearance but
the sly grin that was plastered on his face. Satan.
And it was too late to run.
Our carriage disappeared and we fell in the dirt.
We tried to brush the dirt off but the filth remained.
Our white robes were now black tatters.
Besides our sobbing, silence ruled.
By tears our faces, once beautiful, were stained.
Though the night was cool, we were covered in sweat.
Satan was gone though his laugh did still linger;
it was the thunder that followed the lightning's accusing finger.
As the sky mocked us, we huddled together and were met
by the townspeople who slowly came over to our party.
The people we'd seen that looked like us had
all gone, leaving no trace. We all knew the truth though none said.
That we'd become them, weary and pale from foot to head.
We were bitter, but more afraid than mad.
How miserable we became!
Tightly packed we shivered until dawn.
The sun rose and with it the birds.
Without feeling it, our faces grew bright as the green grass.
All of us appeared as beautiful as the town and its mass;
no one spoke in our party, at a loss for words.
Yes, the town's beauty was restored but we knew it to be fake.
This had been these people's lives, acting joyous to please
the fork-tongued stranger who once tricked them as well.
This was a town of lost children of God.
In it we now dwell.
Lost and afraid, this picturesque town only teased.
A white carriage rambled through the scenic town;
its riders laugh in each other's company but
would they continue through to their journey's end,
what awaits them in Heaven, the end that had awaited us?
Oh please! Don not be trapped by the beauty of Satan's town!
Though we wish to warn the unsuspecting strangers,
we are forced like the others to greet rather than warn of dangers.
Unable to control ourselves, we welcome them to our town.
Wanting to tour, they smile at us and awe at the steeple.
We smile back and look high at our beautiful steeple,
we the people.
Hurry and escape before the sun sets!
Rush into the Father's courts and repent for your present dawdle.
Do not linger here for we are rotting in hell.
They begin to leave and just in time too;
for the sun is setting but then so soon,
a rider points into the street and all is not well.
We are already changing into our true form.
Now I know they are trapped for they know we're dead.
It is no use to run but they cry out to God as we had.
I want to encourage them but instead
a rider notices his company appearing in the crowd.
Knowing all is lost, I want to cry; but what's this?
They do not curse God. More fervently than before, they pray.
Satan does not appear in their angel's place.
Finding their way, they leave this godforsaken town.
Though my people are lost, we now have hope.
If they can find God's grace then maybe we can too.
Slowly I feel my strength regaining and I feel anew.
My friends notice the change as I plan to elope.
God save us please.
Most of our company has repented by now;
some chose self pity instead.
God, hide us from the devil as we escape his town. By starlight
we travel on the streets; praying for God's rescue until we come
out of the town and there by the gate,
a beautiful carriage awaits.
God guide us to your home; we promise we'll go straight there.
Though we enjoy nature's beauty, we'll not
go off course to seek it.
For You, oh Lord, have taught
us to not love the world, so we may not become it.

-CM