Army of Gog

Behold the army of Gog assembling, beneath his boots, ground a-trembling;
proudly marching, power flaunting, yet in the shadows the Word a-haunting.
Elbow to elbow, row by row, their weapons aloft, both sword and bow,
through the streets, across the sand, the swelling ranks cover the land.
They fill the valleys and cover the hills, swarming wherever arrogance wills,
power and might ne'er before seen, in a smoking, grinding war machine.

Trucks and tanks grind mountains to sand, locusts that blacken and rape the land,
smoke hanging low in a choking pall as if cloud of doom hung over them all;
hide your children, sequester your young, before drunken warriors divide them among
row upon row of insatiable need, as spoils to be plundered for unending greed.
Death lends a pallor to all who flee, fear provides urgency, the need to be free.
Cry for your heritage crumbled and lost, cry for the waste, the unbelievable cost.

Inconceivable numbers, ubiquitous cloud, into the mountains the army did crowd
belching fire and steel, enforcing Gog's will, ignoring the warning in unholy still;
skies darkened and turbulent, tinged with green, dark spirits hover twixt and between.
howls like a banshee, stand hair upon end, as spirits attack again and again,
striking out with their swords in unholy fear, the soldiers kill anything venturing near.
Melee and mayhem, blood curdling screams, all seeming just terrible, terrible dreams.

Brother to brother, friend to friend, they strike out in terror, unable to fend
blow after blow, cutting quick to the core, rank after rank fall score after score;
legion after legion strike out in hubris, dying and crying in smoking debris.
Then, as if in remorse for this mistake, the land shakes itself in a shuddering quake;
burning boulders crash heavily down, sulfurous fumes smolder heavy and brown,
rain mixed with fire in treacherous hail, grumbling earth-gods in anger assail.

From chaotic sky o'er chaotic world, javelins of lightning come as if hurled,
cloud to cloud, and sky to ground comes bolt after bolt with deafening sound;
blast after blast, no way to defend, brings the army of Gog to unseemly end.
Prophecy passed down, for our posterity, prophecy revealed in frightening clarity;
prophecy ignored through passing ages, prophecy fulfilled as nature rages.
this lesson, to us, may seem pretty rough, it's simply God saying, "Enough is enough."

Dallas D'Angelo-Gary 09