The Winged Army hurls around,
air bounces between their wings;
Eyes twindle, all around, circling, a verdict is being born.
The angels sing, their troath wide open,
a voice, shaking the world,
Echoes across the universe.
A being steps forth,
his hands burning from the white light;
His face, melting by the cleansing flame
With a touch of eternity,
he tore the worlds asunder,
All at once, commenced the destruction.
The resurrection of the self, hence begun;
the great cleanse,
Obliterated the damned.
The flame burned and gleamed,
errupted between the atoms,
Angels arm-in-arm,
their song amplified by the void.
Within the ultimate darkness,
their echo penetrated;
A breakage beneath the heavens and hell
burnig up alive,
the grim reaper’s well.
From the depths, a shadow emerges;
only to turn to dust, a screeching visage of shadow-mist
Evaporates under the burning light.
From darkness, hence, comes light,
and the sounds of screaming;
Ever so slowly,
settles down.
