July 16, 2024
Paused in Gloom ((Just after Lucifer’s Marketing campaign) (in Narrative Poetic Prose))

Everywhere as God’s eyes wandered all through the heavens, his heart was quaked, sickened, inside of this nocturnal and un-vernal age and aftermath of The Excellent Conflict!

Lucifer’s Marketing campaign, his owlish irony-his imagining!

Earth’s galaxy, likened to a desert of ebon suns, orbs disorientated, off their axis, out of their original orbits: asteroids, comets, meteorites, all bombarding all of interstellar room at random.

An unpeople earth, an earth mown, all in disfigurement.

All because of to the plight of the hostile forces of Lucifer, his two-hundred million angelic renegades, all experienced fallen upon this cosmic kingdom like a desert locust, as Archangel Mich’el and his legions fought them, of 1-hundred million, and lost, until the Commander and Main, God’s Son drove them off the cliffs of heaven.

Earth’s solar system had tumbled into molten heaps of destroy through this conflict: it was as if a hurricane had ripped through a fruitful orchard, leaving only a couple black and decaying stumps!

(Desolation and bleakness- desecration and sacrilege… )

All seemingly vacant, silent, bleak planets with ferruginous atmospheric winds within just their topsy-turvy orbits…

Leaned and slanted was earth’s moon as to its fall, and reflection of earth’s gentle from its solar, and its warming rays.

Tardily was earth’s spin on its axis, 50 % veiled by her sunshine, earth likened to an almond.

Its higher-pulsing mountains, vales, atolls, in stark dilapidation.

Earth’s seas blasted out, dome dry.

Earth, all but a mausoleum!

How extensive she lay desolate, who’s to say?

God’s holy angels whelmed by the utter decline and despair-they observed as it were, all the fluttering shadows, all the gloom, the ruin by people despotic equivocal angelic beings, renegades, as soon as buddies now foes, clothed in rotten tatters, outcasts-

And hence, none would dare solution their Creator, leprous beings of the most unholy sin: to have presupposed to become the emirs of heaven, its caliph.

Lo, now possessing been driven out of heaven none could find the words to answer God, nor his Son, nor his Spirit, for numerous would anon be entombed and what they could say!

So they all fell into a silence, to which was their ideal recourse.

‘And then what?’ They considered.

‘Cast into the cosmic prisons, in some far-off nebula or some defused mass in interstellar house, circled by gasses and luminous patches of darkness as some neanthropic, or extant species!’

No dice, no probability, no bet!

Therefore, they fled through the ashen dusty make any difference of place, and some into the dark and hidden channels of earth’s underworld, as their sound grew fainter, to their Creator, and the portals of heaven were being shut to them, once and for all.

Wholly distraught and despairing they were being remaining to wander, to surprise to curiosity, to breath in their mockery, even though they cursed and played, and awaited their paused gloom, for all have been damned, and all have been in some cataleptic malady.

#5264/6-7-2016