Eclipse Of The Son Poem by Mason Maestro

He paid our debt
He tasted sweat
The pouring blood flows under
In triumphant death
We no longer dread
He is the bread
The hill sees trees
Evil under foot
It's all understood
Sit down on your knees
Ask and you will receive

How many times will we fall
Until the light shines on us all
God grant me an eclipse of the son
Block the darkness shadowing the wall
And he can only be the one, because
He paid our debt
Gifts under His sleeve
Ask and you will receive