The Asp

A psalm that I wrote.

In the shadows does he slyly creep,
With barely a sound he finds his prey,
And by his bite does the victim sleep,
To dream up a world of illusory grey;
With the promise of no consequence,
The poisoned one remains in a coma,
Until the glorious day of recompense,
When the serpent reveals his aroma,
A fetid gas that wreaks of arrogance,
Rotting from within those in its grasp,
What foolishness, this compliance!
The Angels look upon us, they gasp!
For only through humble repentance
And the firm denouncing of the asp,
Can the Physician heal His sheep
And save them from eternal sleep.