THE PROPHET OF FIRE 🔥 A Poem by John Babalola Beloved Upon the hills of drought and dust, Elijah stood with zeal and trust. The skies were brass, the earth was dry, Yet faith burned bright within his cry. He mocked the idols carved by hands, False gods of stone that ruled the lands. But none could answer prophets’ dire desire, Their voices silenced—void of fire. Upon Mount Carmel’s rocky spire, Elijah prayed, heaven’s fire came down, Pure fire with holy sound, Consuming altar, stone, and ground. The people trembled, faces bowed, Their voices thundered, strong and loud: “The LORD is God! The LORD is God!” Then Baal’s messengers met their doom. Elijah’s fire still blazes on, Its flame endures though night seems long. His truth still stands, his courage calls, A blazing light when darkness falls. This age still needs flame-clothed prophets— Whose holy fire ignites the hearts that dare, Whose words awaken souls with burning coals Dare to be the fiery Elijah of our age