The Final Book Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

On Patmos shore, in years of fear,
John wrote what God has made him hear.
A lonely exile, heart aflame,
He heard a voice, it spoke his name.

The world was harsh, the rulers bold,
He saw a story to unfold.
Of mighty justice, fire bright,
To set the wrong things ever right.

He saw a number, few would stand,
A chosen flock in God's new land.
A lake of fire, a dreadful fate,
For those who turned from heaven's gate.

The beast's own mark, a number told,
Six hundred sixty-six, brave and bold.
When horsemen four, with power vast,
Bring death and ruin, shadows cast.

A fiery script, a tale so grand,
Almost too fierce for a mortal hand.
John's vision burned, a sacred fight,
The last book's word, with all its might.

The mark was seen, a number's sign,
A whisper of the foe's design.
Four riders came, on horses white,
To bring forth darkness, end the light.

The final book, a fiery plea,
For all the world, for you and me.
A battle script, so strong and deep,
Secrets that the ages keep.