The Ages, Part VII

Dressed for war, enlarged amid
Hell’s untethered, murmuring
Multitude Samael went as
Animals did; in gaudy, blind
And blood-soaked enmity,
Ascending matter and the division
Set by God for man’s sake alone—
The maze of unspeakable geometric
Profundity—the depths in which
Mortal reason sank and dispersed
In unremitting, endless madness—
This the wilful enemy of everything Holy
Set to contemplate and enter into
In a bid to reinvent, discharge and travesty
The holy writ of Christ’s angels describing
Man’s place amid the stars—his raison d’être
Which sans time and in the undivided
Womb withholding all matter and creation
Was written univocally: “The place of Man
Is at the feet of Christ in holy, soul-surrendered
Servitude—to love and know and bless and
Worship the creator of the cosmos and in turn
Receive his holy dictates, graces and eternal
Rewards ad infinitum.”
The Holy archangel Michael, seeing the
Water of man’s world disturbed—the dark swan
Swimming, feather’s abrading sense from the sheer
And undiscovered surface of the hidden, astral arts,
Like Perfect Faith, Perfect Peace, Perfect Love
For one’s fellow man, took flight, dividing
Infinitely through the pure galvanic network of
The straight-legged Pans—Man, and the unconscious
Reflection of his downward-focussed thoughts to
Find where in that hellish mess was the aberrant,
Mismatched biotype that, as they the architects
Of the genome knew would undo with a swiftness
Unimagined by the wisest apes among them
The entire enterprise of the Christ—
Salvation and the coming of the final Kingdom.

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can also donate some of your hard-earned dollars down below—that’s money to me, for free!

 

Gabriel Muoio

$1.00

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