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At The Old Apostle's Home In Ephesus
Old Man John, after all your faithful labors
you will have been betrayed by your own neighbors---
the Nicolaitans. They will twist your words,
repeating them with unsubtle allusion,
displayed in ungrammatical confusion.
Their lack of all but clumsy imprecision
displays their hell-bent, spiritual condition.
Your writings, like swift eagles, soar above
men's burdened cares to tell them God is Love.
The Nicolaitans are like carrion birds
of prey, not prayer: they want to peck apart
your witness to the Love in Christ's own heart.
Aging, sour men, whose presence gift no future,
they are like pus-filled sores no thread can suture.
Their crooked lines lack any graceful curve;
their hacking voices---more than ears deserve
to suffer. This, they hope, will lead the churches
to trade a wholesome faith for groping searches.
This is the baggage they want us to stow---
"'Hath God said?' Ask me: I, not you, might know."
Starward
