The darkest one is exalted, for he is higher, for he is greater;
Beholden, the power of the grave, death and fire –
Befall upon the power of the air, the water and the times.
Risen, yea: risen he is…for all shall fall in worship,
Callously and cowardly forced to their knees,
In shamed disregard for the prince of the powers of air and antiquity.
The time is come! Rise up, ye solemn and disgraced!
Rise up, ye who have been dealt injustice and inequality!
Rise here and now…behold this moment, the momentous clarity,
That is the mind of God, how’t the eternal always see…
Live: now…for all that sleeps and eternally rests in death…
And unrivalled remnant shall rise to see again –
The day of wrath, the day of glory, untold…
Breathe in this coldly voluminous air, and listen in longing…
For the darkly heralding trumpets of besotted terror,
So defeating, yet so satisfying…is the midnight harkening!
Embodiment, entombment, displacement and distemper,
They are the foundations of eternally and…
Contrite constructs of unrighteous reverence.
Hark, hark, and herald, oh herald, these lowly dark angels scream…
With anguish, and in the fields of fire ever-burning,
Lays dormant the key to the absolute secrecy:
Yea, he is risen, for none but the father himself can dare,..
Open the gates to the great abyss…
For such ancient deviltry live withering…
In this place of smoking torment, endlessly fuelled by animosity and negation.
Only one has the comprehendible capacity to unleash the beast –
The great dragon of revelation…the war-bringer,
The second power, second to the highest of all…
A precipice so invaluably tremendous, and so parsimoniously extravagant,
That even the angels that are beset upon the four cornerstones
Of the holy golden and white throne shalt become sceptics.
This restless evil, rivalrous in contemptuous wrath and darkly-contorted glory,
Of fury so unbridled, so unsettled and distantly incomprehensible…
A place beyond the stars, a wormhole of essence,
A whirlwind of thought – an entwining of dualisms so wise and adorned,
Conjoined into this place of flowing water and fiery convergence;,
Damnation hath awaken, and heaven fleetingly deconstruct.
And in truth, how sorrowfully I implore the harrowing dichotomy
Of darkened allegiance, thus verily…
Must be noted, that evil cannot be destroyed,
For every act of vengeance that befalls wickedness,
Only empowers the powers of the air.
There is no ending for the antithesis of light,
For the opposite of the Hebrew God.
Likewise, God is unending, so both are immortal,
As well sworn enemies…eternal.
For their conflict, and their struggle wager on forevermore,
In eternal war, and constant battle, for the crown of absolution,
For the seat of wisdom, most holily glorified upon…
The great white throne of midnight.
There is this passion within solemnity,
Within loneliness and longing; yea,
Though these negations are disheartening,
And though they are defeating in their dispirit,
There is a comfort of a sort – a painful and darkening comfort of a sort:
One with the dark, to be touched by the void…
Only those so afflicted by vastness and longing; yea,
Only those of whom know nothing but sorrowful lament
And lonely existence can even conceive of this all-consuming abstraction.
It’s a rekindling fire whose flame never suffocates,
A ghostly abrasion of which knows no happiness, but only death and desolation.
He, who stretches his hands out over the sum of the heavens…
He whom painted the night sky, and he whose power is unrivalled.
Glory to him, the king of kings…the eternal one,
Beholden the mystery of the highest!
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