Have you ever felt as if you're on the front lines of a war, but you can't see your enemy? A spiritual battle so extreme that you realize if you don't become better for it you will surely degenerate into a base thing?
When the palm tree sways, bending to the ground
In the wind-powered storm, I recognize
The foundation of faith. Tempests surround
A tumultuous season. Deceiving lies
Haunt and forage deep within scattered souls.
Clouds streaked with sunlit rays; obscure, hidden
In corruption and unbelief. Warm oil,
The Lord's comfort, pleads, desperate to mend
Broken warriors; children most royal.
In the midst of those clawing and biting
Against truth, stand a righteous army cloaked
In humility and service; proclaiming
Victory despite the dismal blood-soaked
Hour. Ragged soldiers release a bold shout
And the holy remnant rises devout.
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