The Time Has Come
Nowhere to run -© Only a Messenger
that which must be has begun,
tares from wheat,
bitter from sweet,
chaff from grain,
sound of mind from all insane,
dross from gold,
It shall unfold -
wickedness from all that’s good,
stripped away like bark from wood,
dark from light, left from right , manifest,
north from south and east from west,
what is cursed from what is blessed.
Murky gray begone from day!
You shall see - so it must be.
Lukewarm from hot, lukewarm from cold;
that long hidden must unfold,
coward false from true and bold
So it has been long foretold.
Don’t you know? Nowhere to go.