Kiss the Son

A Poem Inspired by Psalm 2:10-12

O rulers of the earth, pause in your marching,

Let the dust of your victories settle for a moment.

The drums of your power echo through valleys and cities,

Yet there is a Voice older than empires,

A whisper that outlives every throne.

Be wise now.

Not with the wisdom that sharpens swords,

Nor the cunning that redraws borders in secret rooms,

But with the wisdom that kneels

Before the One who formed the mountains

And taught the oceans their limits.

Be instructed, you who govern the restless world.

For crowns are only borrowed light,

And scepters are branches that break in the storm.

The kingdoms of men are morning frost—

Brilliant for a breath,

Gone when the sun remembers its strength.

Serve the Lord with reverence.

Not the trembling of fear alone,

But the deep awe that bends the soul like wheat in wind.

For the Maker of thunder also shapes the sparrow's wing,

And the Judge of nations listens

To the quiet prayers of the forgotten.

Serve Him with hands unarmed,

With hearts unguarded,

With the humility of rivers that bow

As they reach the sea.

Rejoice with trembling.

For joy before the Holy One

Is not the laughter of careless halls,

But the bright flame that dances

On the edge of mystery.

It is the song of a traveler

Who suddenly sees home across the valley.

It is the breath drawn in wonder

When mercy stands where judgment could have stood.

Kiss the Son.

Come near with the loyalty of dawn

Greeting the rising sun.

Let allegiance be gentle and fierce,

A devotion stronger than iron gates.

For the Son stands at the crossing of eternity and dust,

A bridge of light over the deep ravine of pride.

Kings who bow are not diminished—

They are made taller than their crowns.

But beware the stubborn road.

For anger, once awakened,

Moves like wildfire through dry forests of arrogance.

No fortress can hold against it,

No army can reason with its flame.

Blessed instead are those who take refuge in Him.

They are like trees planted beside living waters,

Roots drinking from hidden springs.

Storms may bend them,

But their leaves remember the sun.

Their refuge is not stone walls

Nor treaties signed in fading ink,

But the quiet shelter beneath divine wings,

Where fear forgets its name.

So listen, O earth.

The call still travels through centuries—

Through palaces, parliaments, markets, and homes.

It walks through the noise of ambition

And the silence of midnight hearts.

Be wise.

Serve with reverence.

Rejoice with trembling.

And come near the Son,

For blessed are all

Who take refuge in Him.