These Things Must Take Place Poem by Bill Cantrell

Why is it that poets are puzzled?
For poetry foretold this day eons ago
The path has been paved, the season is ripe,
as the wicked walk the streets, both day and night

As you see these things happening, Stand up erect,
because your deliverance is near
Just where is this so called handwriting on the wall?
The stone hits the feet, as the statue must fall

Who were those cast down from heaven,
misleading the entire inhabited earth?
Do not try to fix what is broken
That is my two cents, for what it is worth