God created us and marveled at our goodness until we failed him
miserably
and came under the power of the wicked one.
He said, if there could be found one water drop to quench the ever
raging plains of men’s fire
Sizzling on the dark cast iron of the devil’s tongue
Signifying the life on this little planet
Burning on rich soil, let it come forth.
While angel’s cry, let everything that breathes- live on
Hidden in rich soil
While man cries a river to save his own soul
Soil and tear collide creating a perfect environment for the stuff of love
The tiny molecules leading to explosions of roots, birth of trunks and
bloom of spurious weeds
Populating this black cast-iron with furious life
This intimacy mimicking heavenly pastures among gnarled creations,
born with sensations of counterfeit
Love-Sparkling lust and illusion… yet in this world, is a must
His anthem is the loud addiction to Babylon’s towers
But the angels cry aloud to invade this land and leave every tree
amputated from its source, bleeding
Without movements of a breeze within its leaves, no more heavenly
arrogation
But pounding their limbs into crosses and hanging one of their own
from it with hopes to free the
Countless others with his life giving water… cooling the cast-iron and
breaking its mold wide open
Creating a new plane while disemboweling the devil and answering the
angel’s cry for freedom for man
from the devil’s lying tongue.
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