Friday, August 14, 2015

Curse of the Suns (Subtitle: Armageddon’s Stellar Doom) Revised

The silence inside the stars, from earth’s vision: men decry to God’s
       wisdom, and see visions!— 
This is when God had blinked his eyes, and the evening stars trembled, no        
       longer in a solitude or rest, and balance.
This was when all creation had to face cosmic tides of chaos, in the          
       “How deep is this abyss of night?” will be asked: when chaos will not
Ah, then man will ask and seek, as the seas ebb and sway, — the oblivious
       “Whomever they are in this deep, these Armies of eternal night, cold
       and bold: as they may be, combatants from the ramparts of some
       remote garrison, inside some far-off nebula…why do they approach?
Do they not seek to storm beyond the immortal lights of Orion?”

They gaze upon the gulfs in the curvatures of time: they wish to burn, and
       they walk with stellar doom.
These armies, immense, should they not be hidden from earth, wrath would
       they bring—
Until now, God has made them unforeseen!
And man has only dreamed in dreams, and in visions, of their schemes.
Should imaginings become reality—they would create a battle path of       
       menace that would sway to irrevocable war—
Wars for a generation—
Armageddon’s stellar doom: a deep blood splash, from the heavens,
       wherein lies the unbegotten.
How narrow the channel between them and us— they even now set eyes
       upon our orbit; and to them we are but the untrodden dens of the
       cosmic strange… to conquer and enslave!
Lo! The brief yet cunning evil kept in suitable shape for this gloom filled
       day, prophetic doom, approaches—
Marked by annexed darkness, unstable black matter and energy, with
       thrones of fire, from some lost destiny, no longer silenced by God’s
timepiece, thus, the ghostly hours have come, Orion’s horsehead of light
       its firmamental gloom, belted with suns and showered with chaos
Has seen the earth’s helm, its sublime array, now comes this heavenly fray
       this, march of menace… an untillable immense!
The whole universe now in high unrest—; in a darker darkness, where man
       has never been, nor seen, where matter is thick, and as liken to hot magma mass, where dead stars are swallowed up  deep into  spiral  pits of   
       cosmic darkness, where once the angelic prison for the unvirtuous seraphim were imprisoned, no longer caught  in this fiery quarry,  its
       endless maze, swaying in appallingly walls, trying to escape those fatal days — these cosmic foes, ere, they know their doom filled, as the axles of
       earth knows it, breakability, if only for a moment, to create a hush so deep… no thing or being, would be able to withstand the swift
       immeasurable night’s doom— Lo! From the lapse of form!
Lest Elohim’s hand take up man’s fate!
Behold, not even the stellar strongholds deep in Orion, with their cosmic
      besieging armies, and their legionaries, nor the supreme armies of the deep spiral abyss—whom are but barbaric eyes to God—should he
       interfere, in these not so far-off days, man would vanish into the haze,
       the invading flames, of chaos, into the bombardment of  a thunderous
       trillion-trillion, cosmic neutrinos!—
And knocking out all the biological ancestral material that God used to       
       mix and produce life.
And should not God shorten those days, all that will be left will be a        
       cosmic tomb, and the grit of firmamental gloom!

And I had seen in a vision, of those not so far-off days: that the sun was
       powerless to illume the moon, dwarfed—; the time of sorrows.
And I had in those not so far-off days: denial of this end, that this perfect
       and final war of wars: mutate was man’s mind to this comet’s like
       blaze, of destruction; as if to become frozen primordial soup; perhaps to reform at another time, under the right conditions.

And to them that would not kneel, were thrown into a fiery mote; into a  
        encoded doom by the dark messengers, of gloom.
Now the vision has passed, all that was to be hidden into the unfathomed
       stalls of mystery, will appear tier by tier, until the very end, which is  without question, jut when! 

No: 4430 (July 2, 2014)/ revised and reedited August 26, 2014, reedited/revised:  8-20’15/ For: Naason Mulatre, Cecilia Matias Aliaga and Marge McPartlin