Up in Smoke

As numerous as flowers
     growing wild in a field,
The wicked in the world
     daily aim their arrows
And brandish their
     gleaming swords,
Readying to slay both
     the downtrodden
          and the upright,
Plotting against them
     and openly gnashing
          their grisly teeth.
But their bows will be broken
     and their swords will stab
          their very own hearts.
One day the wicked
     will be no more,
          they will not be found,
Like weeds in a barrel
     they will be consumed
          going up in smoke.

Psalms 37:10-20

by J Alan R
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