Darkness on The Face of the Deep

Darkness On the Face of the Deep

The earth was without form and void

On the day of the long destruction

No tree stood, no bird sang, no flower bloomed

When all the world fell silent in the wake of the death of life.

Where walked the man who had not been made?

The woman at his side, a softer version of himself?

Where ran the babies with their tender smiles and happy calls

Who had not then known the rage that leads to blood?

They were yet in their Father's eyes

In His mind, still innocent and loyal

Still children unborn and unnamed

In a garden that had not been tilled.

The earth, a crumbled, chaotic heap

Dying, in the past of a thousand dreams

War had come and war had gone

And war'd been declared until the end of time.

What did they know that we don't know,

The fallen rulers of the ancient world?

And what do we know that they didn't know,

We, the people of the end of it all?

(If Atlantis was an island

Was that island then, the Earth

Doomed by it's own reflection

And the glory of it's own device?)

For what has been, is being still

And what will be, has been before

There is nothing new, nor ever shall be

Until that day that dawns in cleansing fire.

Man is not the originator of seduction

Neither is he the architect of towers

He is the student, and willing, true,

But following only the counterfeiter's drafts.

How different was that world from this

The First World with it's ancient skies

Only relics now, and bones

Left behind to be untombed and sorted.

We wonder what the Watchers watched

Banished from their place of origin

No longer there in the City of Light

But under the rule of a heart full of dark despair.

And still he rules, though hampered now,

Waiting for the world to pledge allegiance

Waiting for the sun to plunge

And all the world go dark again.

He did not know what he had then

When he sat a king, on earthly throne

It was not enough for his desperate soul

He, who shined as brightly as a star.

What is it in the mind of men

That makes them crave the night?

It is he, the one who covered

It is he, the one who fell.

Like lightning through the sky to earth

Defiance, screaming, rebellion, taunting

Down onto that newly made thing of dirt

The new born world, untouched, unsullied.

And pride un-made it

And hate un-did it

And bitterness clouded,

And death found it's hold.

(Three times, the world must be born

Three times washed in the water of war

Three times destroyed and three times remade

Three times and at last, Death itself will then die.)

And where stands the ruler of that ancient age?

He, who finds no crown too big to covet?

He, who fell in love with his own face?

He, who crushed his gift in scornful hands?

Look within the hearts of men

Is he not there?

In the souls of kings and princes

With corruption in their eyes.

In the bullets and the guns and knives

Clutched in hands that know no love

Is he not there with growling voice

Saying, Come on, do the deed!

In the songs and in the pictures

In the papers printing lies

In the drugs and in the hunger

In the palaces bought with blood?

In the politicians's promises

In the Utopian's sweet dream

In the order birthed from chaos

His old lies are sold as truth.

Is he not there?

Is he not here, in sleeping men

On couches, deceived in darkened rooms

With our lives projected on a screen?

He still stands a conqueror

Still destroying an earth holding onto life

But we are his comrades now 

And his armies, they march at our sides.

He does not know, or perhaps he does

His time is short, his kingdom, crumbling

His future written on the page of a book

Written in history with ink of  pure blood.

He rules, the second time on a new made world

Angels first, now men, his stumbling slaves

But this time all of earth and all of heaven     

 Will shake their heads when the Cherub falls again.

©by Voo

May 29, 2010

11:50 p.m.