As they walk through the thick blanket of fog,
All that is heard is their vulgarity toward God.
Repeating to spew the poison from their tongues,
As the blood diminishes to cover their sins they enjoy dwelling in.
More continue to walk into this venomous fog, lost in their disobedience.
They walk blindly pretending to see what is ahead, a nose too high obstructing the view.
Not knowing that their reality will end in a second or two, like the hasty winds.


As they walk through the thick blanket of fog,
There boastful season has ended, for they feel nothing to walk on.
The ground was absent, the realization that they have fallen off an unseen cliff.
Was the lawlessness well worth it? With no hand of God to catch their fall,
To fall and continue to fall, only to be devoured by the darkness too many have swarmed to.
An end is the end, not when personal possessions have been lost but when a soul was never found.
Must it be too late to find out the truth, lost children? To grieve the Father as He sees His children pouring down that cliff.




But then...silence! What can be heard through this thick blanket of fog?
One!... Two!.. Three! Out of the thousands. The only voices praying to Him pleading to be rescued!
Singing and searching for their Maker, the hearts that refused to hardened.
Knowing of their own disobedience, they continued to seek the One who forgave.
For the love and joy gleamed from His heart,
To know His children who were looking for their way back home.
He steered his way toward their voices, clearing the fog and shining is light.
Then to proceed the way back home to finally know what content is; anchored in His wholeness.