Eurasian apocalypse

Upon the Russian plain a serf ploughs his way
      Through hefty rocks in rough terrain.
 And he’s no other place to make his home;
      This is his life come drought or rain.

 Far the steppe rises from the grassy stretch;
      A fairer sight than most he’s seen.
 His struggle is found in beauty all day,
      But he can’t rest to be so keen.

 Deep within his heart he so often prays
      That God and Saint Vladimir
 Would protect and guide his each waking day.
      In hope he faces his deepest fear.

 He looks out under the hills and there he sees
      The family God has gifted him.
 For all that’s been suffered by them through years,
      Love at least is full to brim.

 Lo! What is this – this sight upon the steppe?
      A glancing light, a host of horse –
 He cannot yet tell that death is now come, 
      Nor in its sight will he find remorse.

 For the Horde has come to claim ancient land
 For harsh new rule brought by violent hand:
 By bow and by beast and by cruelty’s feast,
 Laid out for every crow from greatest to least.

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3 thoughts on “Eurasian apocalypse”

  1. The cruel realities in history told! Can’t wait ‘til Jesus comes and rescues His fold! His beauties are captivating and blessed! He’ll come with renewal, redemption and rest.

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