The Conquest Of Chaos Poem by Terry Williamson

Suddenly, there feels like an aroma filling the air,
Like…
A cloud of peace and pleasantries has invaded the atmosphere,
pillaging the stench of a chaotic plague.
What once was foggy is rooted with visibility
And I feel, almost… free…

Chaos, with its iron fist,
Aroused the herd,
Shoveled up the beautiful garden overdue on its harvest,
Exited a thunderstorm and traveled a newly-mopped kitchen floor.
Chaos reigned for more than a dynasty,
But now finds
its forts overcome and
palace walls breached,
soldiers vanished and
throne room reached.

There is obvious greater work present…
The Voice of wind breathing life again on command,
The hand of the Planter effortlessly redoing the violated garden,
The Commander in Chief executing a divine destruction on present error.

And I feel… liberated from a pit of doom. I was
Locked in a dungeon pretty willingly and yet
Cried out for deliverance.
The Deliverer heard the cry as He would not forsake His Word
And initiated a previously concocted scheme of rescue.

I indeed feel free because my call has been answered.
There is security in place
to insure peace,
to reestablish stability,
to reinforce the Spirit law
that replaces the written law,
to promote love…

which is the sum, purpose and fulfillment of the whole commandment.