Never take sips from the serpent’s hand,
What looks like honey may be sinking sand.
He offers smooth lies in a silver cup,
But one small taste, and your soul gives up.
His words may drip like liquid gold,
But poison waits in promises told.
Inhale the fumes, you think you stand,
But slowly, surely—you will land.
Land where peace begins to fade,
In shadows thick and hope delayed.
Where chains are dressed in velvet lace,
And sin wears a familiar face.
He knows the thirst, he feeds the flesh,
He wraps deception in something fresh.
But don’t be fooled by charm or grin—
The serpent’s drink is steeped in sin.
So turn away, let wisdom guide,
Let living water flow inside.
Let God be the cup you choose to hold,
The only truth, the only gold.
For in His hand is freedom’s wine,
Pure and holy, sealed divine.
Never take sips from the serpent's hand—
Drink from the Rock, and firmly stand.
©heavenecho
H