Call Me Job

What of me do they desire

That Heaven and hell should conspire

To allow the evil one

To feed me a daily dose

Of hell's eternal fire.

Is it not enough that I gave Him my heart?

Must He give it to the evil one to tear apart?

Like some twisted autopsy

Performed, while I still am alive,

By some deranged René Descartes?

I beg for assurance that my faith is not in vain.

A word from heaven would be enough to sustain

What little hope that I have left

To ride out this torturous night

And see Heaven smiling once again.

I cling to the horizon waiting for the sun

For the hour when His will for me would be done

And He would be pleased that I endured.