The False Prophet

The False Prophet

Gabriel Magno © 2012

A storm approaches, the sky grows dark, the village prophet speaks in the park

Reciting stories to those who brave, the tempest growing, as tall trees wave

The lightning strikes the steeple bell, the children cry, the women yell

The rain falls hard, the cows stampede, the wind approaches a dangerous speed

The church aflame, the farmer runs, to save the priest, to save the nuns

Out in the distance, a funnel grows, the prophet lacks the proper prose

To calm the people’s growing doubt, of all his claims that he is wise

No bible’s verses that he now shouts, can change the vision in their eyes

That what the storm has laid to waste, has missed to silence him this day

He’s left them all a bitter taste, all they can say is "go away".