A poem for Satan

Good morning, Satan.

Back for more, I see. What a fool you still are. Did you not learn your lesson?

Just yesterday my God defeated you soundly. Your plots were wasted. Your arrows fell short. Your blitz was blocked, and God smirked at your attempts. He’s a Good Shepherd and you’re a mediocre wolf.

You are persistent. I’ll give you that. It’s in your nature, I’m told. The life we live belongs to God and you just can’t stand it, can you? How insufferable it must be to be you, full of hate and lacking love. You have no idea what it’s like to be fully protected from creeps like you.

You surround yourself with Yes Men, although they’re more like petulant children. Demons don’t have much grasp of your insufficiency. If they did, they’d abandon you.

You, who love punishment so much, clearly don’t know how to avoid it. You step in it often, fighting your winless battles. It’s unlikely you’ve thought much of your impending demise but, rest assured, we have. We think about your inevitable defeat whenever you start “gaining ground”. Every inch you think you occupy in our hearts is really just a misguided dream. Your claws cannot touch us. Your schemes cannot break us. We are on God’s team, and he’s never lost a battle. Better yet, he’s planned your final one.

Spoiler alert: You lose, again.

Hell is where you belong. Your days of roaming the earth are coming to an end. The borrowed time the Lord offered you is nearly up. The top of the hourglass is low on sand.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

You won’t give up. If you were smart you would. But you’re not. You’re wretchedly dumb. Your perceived might is your true plight. Your muscles are mush. Your hope is hapless. Your plans are like puddles — lacking depth and easily stomped upon.

Give up.

You’re pressing. It’s clear. You try your best but your best is embarrassingly useless. Your strength doesn’t register compared to my God. He’s greater at every positive measurable. You’re a blip in the timeline of creation.

Give up, Satan. It’s for your own good.

But I’m sure you’ll come lurking like a loser again, tomorrow.