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He rails and reels
unleashing visions of death and destruction.
Gargoyles arch at the gate of eternal damnation
waiting for the miserable unrepentant.

He is chosen,
he alone hears the word of God.
He will deliver them from
futile lives and vanities.
And they listen.

"Oh, wicked misdirection,
lambs led from the shepherd.
Wretched lot, children gone astray,"
The voice quivers as a single tear
inches down his cheek, the closeup shot.
"The Lord is merciful, Jesus is the answer.
Cast Satan from your lives
I'm here to save you brothers, sisters."

He postures, this man of God,
upon the stage, bathed in light.
He stands center stage, this man of God, on his mark,
in a suit of fine cloth and silken tie
raising soft, uncalloused hands.
He summons the Holy Spirit to fill the room.
Long fingers, manicured nails beckon.

He rages, cries. He screams
for all must hear his message, the message.
He prays, he pleads
he begs.

In unison they answer
with moans and tears.
He is gone now,
the satellite carries him away.
He has gone, on to Opelika
Leaving their pockets filled with Salvation.

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