Still Time Poem by Bill Cantrell

Late for dinner,
Food for thought
What was once viewed repulsive,
cannot then be bought

Peace and security,
shall soon be proclaimed
Puppets on strings
will be inclined to fuel the flames

Time is so very precious,
holding hands death and life
The putting to death of the wicked,
brings God no delight

The season of goodwill
ticks down to its end
True, the road is narrow,
but teeming with true friends

Their silver, their gold,
Look, they toss them in the streets,
after the great harlot,
Is devoured by the beast

The kingdom is coming
all bow down to our king
The wicked will vanish in the mist
Yet, the earth must still remain