Paul surely had lost his spiritual edge
Twas time for him to leave the stage
Age had made him yesterday’s sage
Demas thought-it was time to turn the page
When the anointing was still on him
Aprons taken from his saintly body
Healed all scarred at Satan’s whim
Now he abandoned Trophimus at Miletus
His prayer unable to heal an infirm buddy
This Tent-Maker turned itinerant preacher
Had failed to monetise his message
With his gift the ministry should be richer
Now he had only one cloak in his dotage
Was Paul’s mighty faith now waning?
Why was his infirmity not healed
After years of tearful pleading
His faltering faith had finally failed
This man who had seen the third heaven
Was now trapped in a stinking cell
A manacled maniac musing about death
Rejoicing in tolling of martyrdom’s bell
Brother Demas was done with this
He wanted out to make great impact
With a gospel not enfeebled by piety
A ministry better in strategy and tact
But Brother Demas failed to see
Divine strength robed in weakness
Was God’s own modus operandi
The gift is not to bless those in the harness
