Second Coming

Feel dirt and grime in tents of time,
Hear prophecies of miracles told,
Voices carried where desert winds,
Blow breaths of spirits old.

Walk miles of ancient sands a‘fire,
Burning your eyes right through,
Gaze upon the sandy dunes,
To reveal his holy truth.

Yon’ distant scenes of airy waves,
Blooms once were said to come,
Our savior plants the fallow land,
His winnowing soon be done.