False Victory

He smiled that day, he thought he won. A paper ruling, battle done. But hollow triumph fades away. For God had planned a higher way.

He shaved support, a fleeting prize. Yet could not see through blinded eyes. Two new appeals were born that day. His fortune bled to lead the way.

A million spent, the lawyers feed. While truth and justice plant their seed. The gavel fell, he thought he’d won. But Pyrrhus whispered: “You are done.”

For what is gain when coffers fall? What use is the crown when it costs it all? He bought his ruin, sharp and quick. A Pyrrhic win. A poisoned trick.

And I, though counted as the lost, was lifted higher at his cost. The farm, the children, all will be. For God has written victory. ☀️💗💗💗💗