Death's Lifetime Commentary
My image is darkness and my presence is fear. This is what I want; it is always true of me. I hold the sickle aloft at the ready for the harvest of souls.
I despise mankind's well-being, and hate him with all of mine. I move silently, unhindered, and even invited by the witless amidst him.
I hold scant regard for the body and no interest for the spirit of man. When I swing my sickle the spirit returns to its giver, its maker who I hate beyond all expression.
Yes man is made of three parts, but it is his soul I want. This is the devotion of my heart.
I shadow the body and linger aloft, unseen in the air. I have an unending patience to claim another and so own their soul. I will tease them and draw them close.
I inhabit the bedrooms and bordellos, the dangers and disasters upon earth (I create these). I steal hopes and populate hospices. This I enjoy for they are the food for my existence. I am greedy, never satisfied.
I used to own all life, all that drew breath on earth belonged to me for a very long time: a season too long to number.
I once saw a perfect man. I attempted to bribe Him and failed. When He refused I claimed His life. BUT He tricked me, and slipped through my fingers to rise again. On that day I died.
Forever now I am in vengeance and in pain. I am without rest. I am beaten but will tell no-one.#
the saying that is written will come true: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’ ‘Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? (1 Corinthians 15:54b-55)
Jesus swallowed death so death could not swallow you.
Today's Soul Snippet:
"The fewer the words, the better the prayer." ~ Martin Luther
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#This SoulSnack was inspired from the recent movie The Book Thief
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