The world is a wound that refuses to heal,
A cycle of sorrow, a spinning steel wheel.
Wars rage like tempests, the earth cracks in two,
But there’s nothing the Rapture can’t cure.

The hollow-eyed wander, the lost and the weak,
Their prayers turn to echoes too broken to speak.
Yet Heavens will open, the trumpet will roar—
And there’s nothing the Rapture can’t cure.

No more the hunger, the grief, or the pain,
No more the sinners who curse in the rain.
The light will descend, so perfect, so pure—
For there’s nothing the Rapture can’t cure.

For His Glory
MarkWaldrop

Inspired by a friend
Darlene Sowa KQ4NTV
“Theres nothing the Rapture can't cure”