L C Vieira (Lisbon, Portugal)
You have not conquered - you never will,
though you destroy and torment still.
One day you will not stoke the fire,
but will be victim to its desire
and all the lies you've told as liar
and all the souls you've dragged through mire,
will rise to bury you instead,
beneath the screams of those you led -
who die forever, the damned, the dead.
There was a time I walked with you
when blind, I thought your face I knew;
your promises that haunted me,
I thought were mine, and given free;
your honey sweetness deceiving me -
but greater hands than yours did love
and lifted me high above,
so I could see the filth you were,
and stains my garment wore, for sure.
He gathered me within His arms,
then with new eyes I saw your charms,
and shouted, 'I am not dead,
you have not conquered - you'll die instead! '
You laughed at me; you taunt me still
and sneer each time I fail His will,
but He defends me when I fall,
and carries me above it all,
until I see your darkened core;
though you are that, I am no more.
My cleansed cloak shines within His light;
I dare to face you in the night,
for like a vapor you will fade,
while I will live beneath His shade,
and you will know I am not yours.
You have not conquered - you never will.
Comments about this poem (Conquered by L C Vieira )
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