Better the End: It's Yet Dawn by Popoola Samuel

At every little torn in the flesh,

Your cries tussle heights with

A tandem of shrieking larks.

At every slight torrent in your blood,

Hardly your murmurings make a rift

With the echoes of many cascades.

Listen, child, yours not the first!

The whole world's collapsing on me:

Your watchword at every bit of time.

Every thing's just walking upside down:

The undying echo on your sear tongue.

You swim against the tide, while it all

Appears a seamless flow for others.

Were men of old not witnesses also?

Don't you dare remember

"All that will live godly" must befriend

Persecutions?

Or, it's slipped your mind

"Many are the afflictions of the just?"

In white they must yet pull thro', while

Their righteousness part the red sea.

Take heed of my words. Take heed!

Those at last join the chorale of seraphs

& cherubs to chime symphonies of

Victory are no men of drawing back.

They're a living sacrifice on the altar of

Endurance, raising their fragrant incense

To the White Throne every now and then.

Let him that has an ear hear...

The trials are but for ten days!

The flames are not forever and a day!

Then, shall you come forth as a purified gold.

And, your crown will no one else take.