Friday, March 1, 2019

Last Angel In Heaven

Last Angel In Heaven
© Surazeus
2019 03 01

Faster than waves crashing against sharp rocks
to remind me my flesh body is frail,
as flowers that blossom in torrents of rain,
I walk toward city of the singing stones.

I want to know how angels know my name
because I designed its vision from mud
of naked river where nothing but light
from sunrays explains strange reality.

Each step I ascend winding trail of hope
brings me closer to shining paradise
where girls in temples harmonize in choirs
with voice of prophecy in roaring waves.

Dead bodies of children, women, and men
lie strewn on golden streets of paradise,
blood staining white marble with tears of death
that shimmer silently in swirling smoke.

Who killed all the angels of paradise,
I cry out in anguish of desperate fear,
and vanish in nothingness of fire smoke
that sucks all sorrow from my hollow heart.

So many beautiful people destroyed
by sharp swords lie mangled on temple floors,
eyes staring blankly at the empty sky
as their elegant names bleed in mute soil.

The last angel in Heaven still alive,
I sit on throne where God judged life and death,
and gaze at empty hall where shadows sing
as God and angels are devoured by worms.

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