These chains! These curséd chains! If I could chew
my way to freedom, I would surely do
so, though it cost me pain and limb! To be
thus shackled in this bitter tackle He
has clapped on me, while He, unfettered, free,
and indestructible, thus plunders me
at will, is a humiliation too,
too deep to bear. I howl and shriek and rue
with wildest wails the day I stood before
Him, thinking to myself He could no more
resist my wiles than any mortal man
before Him. I was clever, wiser than
this sun-parched prophet, so I thought; and He
in all His weakness would succumb to me
as had so many others. What a fool
I was to think that somehow I could rule
the Son of God, that He would bow to me
and I His master would forever be!

So now I drag these curséd chains around –
unyielding, undeterred, but shackled, bound,
and helpless to defend my ruined realm
against Him, as He moves to overwhelm
my power and wrest from me by force what I
once proffered Him, that day I stood to try
His mettle. One by one He wrenches from
my grasp those I kept blinded, as they come
to Him, responding to His simple Word
of truth, and bowing to Him as the Lord
of life and glory – bowing down to Him
instead of me! Meanwhile, I spend my grim
existence in a never-ending quest
to keep His Name concealed from all the rest
of those who yet pretend they have no need
of God. Deceived and dying, many heed
my subtle, suave suggestions, as I feed
them lies on lies and keep their focus keyed
on self-indulgence, empty pagan rites,
or promises to fill their appetites
with wealth or sex or fame. But always from
a distance, in the background, lest I come
too close and they perceive the truth of my
predicament, and see these fetters by
which I and they are held in check. Oh yes,
it’s true for all who yet refuse to bless
His Name, that they, no less than I, are clothed
in chains, adorned with fetters and betrothed
to empty foolish dreams – the countless lies
I lead them to believe, whom I despise
almost as much as Him. Yet, point no blame
at me: They love this bold deception game,
and grasp at any notion, any dream
that suits their foolish fancies and might seem
to make them happy without having to
acknowledge Him. Oh, I confess, I do
delight in this deceiver’s role. At times
I even entertain the thought, sublime
as it may be, that I might yet prevail
against the Risen One. And so I rail
against Him, casting doubt upon His Word,
assuring every fool he is the lord
of his existence, urging all to fill
their cups again, to lie, cheat, steal, and kill
to get their way, and to forget about
their God. And then I want to scream and shout,
“I’ve won! The whole created world is mine!
And surely even Jesus will resign
Himself to my control!” But as I raise
my claws to celebrate my fiendish ways,
I feel again the awful weight of chains,
and realize once more that all my gains
are self-deceptions, faggots on the pyre
awaiting me within the lake of fire.

This one, grim consolation do I own:
I shall not bear that consequence alone.