The Devil’s Crust: Sacred Poetry

by Cosmic Poet Simon Pole

Trans Solar World Battery image by Joe Haput CC BY-SA

The Devil’s Crust

Briefly flared the single spark,
And flashed a moment in the dark,
And there it traced a vivid speech,
With a far and burning reach.

“I am the fire which lights the dead,”
The flaming tongue livid said,
“Where they pummel, and beat, and lie,
While above their jailers fly.”

“Demons they in flashes see,
And tortures which are mystery
Until they strike—then they scream,
And wish that they had never been.”

“But you above who sojourn yet,
In acres where water wet
Can soothe the wroth and restless soul:
Forget not where burns the coal.”

“Do not take light bread you eat,
Which quenches full the stomach’s heat,
For when He bread takes away,
Your flesh itself will eat each day.”

“And bitter then you’ll rue the chance,
Yours in former circumstance,
To refactor thinking crude,
And understand whence came your food.”

“That all this good came not from you,
And justice was not your due
By virtue of some effort yours;
Besides, others despoiled more!”

“Yet behold, He feeds you still
That which you chose for good or ill:
Justice now as was before
With judgment of the threshing floor.”

“And so you drink the molten ash,
Demonic chains raise a rash
On your bound skin, as meals of dung
Are sentenced to screaming lungs.”

One last warning traced the spark,
Before again intrudes the dark:
“Accept He who makes you just,
Or eat, in tears, the Devil’s crust.”

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From the Like a Lamb collection.