Trampling the Tyrant, Delivering the Dead
Can you feel the wait?The weight of sin.The weight of glory.The pause of movement,Creation waits,Its Maker sleeps. Down into the pitDescends the OneWho made the depths.All of SheolLooks up and gazesUpon the Savior. The Alpha who spokeLight into existenceIlluminates the darkPit where the dead saintsAre imprisoned byThe serpent’s vile bite. Adam rejoicesSeeing the One whoWalked…