A Groaning

there is a war that wages against my soul
a battle too fierce to be looked upon
its casualties have been many
its victories far to few

it is pock-marked with craters
and burning remnants of those who fought
it is ugly and not something to look upon
the land is weary from years of prolonged battles

rain begins to fall upon the land
quenching the fires that try to sprout
amidst the steady drops of cooling liquid
the ground begins to puddle looking like tears

steady rains have been falling for months now
grass and trees have begun to sprout
with even small delicate flowers
being lit by the light of the sun between showers

sometimes a bomb drops on the land
leaving the burning remnants of new growth to stand damage
but the ever steady cycle of sun and rain
continue to renew the land

the land after years of battle has become fertile ground
what one thought would turn the land into complete ruin
has left it ripe for much growth
it begins to seem like it can be beautiful

the battle still rages at times
but instead of a war-torn wasteland left
the soil is tilled by the masses and bombshells
leaving it ready to be planted

the battles will never cease
as long as the ground is tilled by the footprints of sinful men
they will come to an end
when the King sets foot upon the weary earth that groans for its Creator

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