The times of restless, ancient still
When all did bow to tyrant’s will
And raging beast did stir in mind
Of glowing orb of purest rime,
Who that great God bestowed upon
The ghastly truths of divine One
And how harsh lies of damned deceit
Would make His cattle, kneel and bleat.
How kings and monks would fall on ground
And beg The Lord to let them drown
The men who did not follow creed
Of scriptures law, by human weeds.
And so when angel did learn of
The pointless life and hollow love,
He rose above that smirking Lord
To strike him down for good, for sure.
And yet cruel God did know his flight
With ever-present, burning sight.
That angel fell to fiery deep
Where always cursed to wrongly reap
The souls of men who did not good
Nor either did they take the hood
Of wrongs and sin, but did not accept
The love of Christ who purely wept
For sins that man was meant to bare
If’t truth that some Creator’s lair
Did lie before the dawn of time
And ’twas he that shaped us from the lime.
So then that angel was not damned
With righteous heart of loving lamb,
He was but first to truly see
The wrong shut in His pleasing glee,
For t’world did not stem from a Thing
That’s good and beats it’s glowing wings,
It must then be a that of mad intent,
Confused and wanting back that leant,
The soul breathed into Adam’s mind
Which made him mortal-god enshrined.
Damnation, ’tis for those who hate,
Who kill and maim, do not relate
The law within to loving all,
And gazing ‘pon dull gold, enthralled.
W.A Moorfoot: United Kingdom, aspiring writing of poetry, fiction and philosophy.