One Man Weaker

The sightless, isomorphic, heretic prick
Stuck it to the pope of hope like mortar to brick
He said, “God is dead in my head!” 
before he drowned in sleep upon his sinner’s bed. 
The Devil crawled into his brain that night
to make the evil in him ignite.
All the light of Hell shined within his blind eyes 
Reflecting, the murky thoughts of the Prince of Lies. 
On waking, he was no longer a man but a monster
The seed of blasphemy ever stronger.
A necromancer renounced of faith, full of hate
Begged the angels, “contemplate!” 
But so filled with rage was he, 
he waggled his tongue to the tune of heresy. 

“JESUS, Krishna, Buddha, too
I hate each and every one of you!”
But Dear God, as He always was,
Forgave, forgave, and used his love
To fight the black within the prick
Until the man was no longer sick.

Then one day he lifted his healed frame from the bed
With only heaven in his head.
His thoughts were light, ethereal.
He contemplated charity as he had some cereal.
Now with only the weight of clarity within his mind
He could find the time
To help the poor,
And rest assured,
He was completely transformed
Into a bles-sed soul
His spirit was kind, his heart of gold
A lovely man of god, filled with peace
Now long rid of the beast
He loved the stranger like no other
All his neighbors were like sisters; brothers
Every day he’d first wake and pray
That he would always stay this way.
Living his new life as a Seeker. 
The Devil’s hold on humanity, 
now one man weaker.