Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Paused in Gloom ((After Lucifer’s Campaign) (in Narrative Poetic Prose))
Everywhere as God’s eyes wandered throughout the heavens, his heart was quaked, sickened, within this nocturnal and un-vernal age and aftermath of The Great Conflict!
Lucifer’s Campaign, his owlish irony—his thinking!
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 space at random.
An unpeople earth, an earth mown, all in disfigurement.
All due to the plight of the hostile forces of Lucifer, his two-hundred million angelic renegades, all had fallen upon this cosmic kingdom like a desert locust, as Archangel Mich’el and his legions fought them, of one-hundred million, and lost, until the Commander and Chief, God’s Son drove them off the cliffs of heaven.
Earth’s solar system had tumbled into molten heaps of ruin during this conflict: it was as if a hurricane had ripped through a fruitful orchard, leaving only a few black and decaying stumps!
(Desolation and bleakness—; desecration and sacrilege…)
All seemingly empty, silent, bleak planets with ferruginous atmospheric winds within their topsy-turvy orbits…
Leaned and slanted was earth’s moon as to its fall, and reflection of earth’s light from its sun, and its warming rays.
Tardily was earth’s spin on its axis, half veiled by her sun, earth likened to an almond.
Its high-pulsing mountains, vales, atolls, in stark dilapidation.
Earth’s seas blasted out, dome dry.
Earth, all but a mausoleum!
How long she lay desolate, who’s to say?
God’s holy angels whelmed by the utter loss and despair—they saw as it were, all the fluttering shadows, all the gloom, the ruin by those despotic equivocal angelic beings, renegades, once friends now foes, clothed in rotten tatters, outcasts—
And thus, none would dare approach their Creator, leprous beings of the most unholy sin: to have presupposed to become the emirs of heaven, its caliph.
Lo, now having been driven out of heaven none could find the words to answer God, nor his Son, nor his Spirit, for many would anon be entombed; and what they could say!
So they all fell into a silence, to which was their best recourse.
‘And then what?’ They thought.
‘Cast into the cosmic prisons, in some far-off nebula; or some defused mass in interstellar space, circled by gasses and luminous patches of darkness as some neanthropic, or extant species!’
No dice, no chance, no bet!
Consequently, they fled through the ashen dusty matter of space, 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 shut to them, once and for all.
Wholly distraught and despairing they were left to wander, to wonder to curiosity, to breath in their mockery, while they cursed and played, and awaited their paused gloom, for all were damned, and all were in some cataleptic malady.