A winding country road, beautifully lined with trees.

A leviathan black horse, powerful between my knees.

Alone? No. Christian friends of which there are two.

Together, outside a clearing. Witnessing a terrifying view.

A crowd gathers to burn the American flag. I cry in protestation.

Oh, dear God. Has the time come? Indeed, is this the tribulation?

Suddenly we three know the perils of being caught.

Yet one runs to help another. Falling, was shot.

Held back in rage I cry, tears for the injustice done.

To one whose crime was Jesus Christ, his only one.

We walk amid the chaos, unknown in our belief.

Horror filling my heart, filling to sate my grief.

Unable to watch the crimes against God and remain silent to this hoard.

We, two who remain, walk away. Falling from my pocket the cross of our Lord.

Retrieve it quickly, lest it be seen.

Rising, encountering eyes, encasing a malicious gleam.

My spirit recoils within flesh, unable to hide my revulsion in the least.

Standing arrogantly before me is a disciple of the beast.

I stand facing evil the like I’ve never known, yet now I am enticed.

No longer afraid, but suddenly strengthened. I belonged to Christ.

A grimaced evil pass over a grotesque face. Nothing we need say.

Fearless now, I smile and turn. We two walk, live to fight another day.