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.