The Ages, Part XII

Christ in the garden contemplated
the way of his Father’s command,
that had those tempting, imbecile
spirits of hell’s chaos interred on
the blessed day of deliverance, and
those sinners, the ones made in God’s image
though who chose to dress as their father,
Satan: those destroyers and
dealers of children, wilful homosexuals,
liars, self-worshippers, slavers,
perverters of holy things and
lovers of blasphemy—those sinners
aside in an instant from their dark deceptions
would see their error and commit no longer
their hands, mouths and hearts to demonic
things but to the ground that would not hide
them or their deeds. Those who looked
for His appearing only would be saved,
their sins bound in the undoable power
of his sacrifice on earth. Those wealthy
sodomites and abusers of children had
no comfort, and the weeping faithful,
the bruised and desperate faithful were
uplifted to heaven’s gate and glory—in the
garden he saw the ones he loved but never
knew devolve measure by measure into
indescribable wickedness—training their
minds to feed on what pleased them only
and without restriction—their bottomless
pit and black mirror—witchcraft, amphetamines,
ritual sacrifice, human domination—and
as was natural in their world and Satan’s, rising
to stardom and influence spread their sickness
to the million million others with open ears and
mouths, who loved pleasure and in the fire could
not see smoke to escape. The many multitudes
of his creatures who rejected him he wept for,
sad at their depravity, and at the unremitting
tears shed upon their censure and only
sentencing, which is hell eternal—he loved
them all, and trembled, bleeding from his
very pores knowing the wrath would not be
spared all but some small elect—his brothers
and sisters—wailing he knew their dark fate,
for loving Satan and worshipping a defeated
king they raised flags against the Almighty,
Adonai, a perilous and insane wager, some
in blind hatred, some in genuine shortsighted
revelry in the current hour, knowing all the same
the great cost at death. Some still, Christ saw,
had made hollow contracts with spirits
posing as the eternal heirs of space, the earth
and their corresponding planes,
as though they would survive the great sifting of the
cosmos and would be heirs of anything but
eternal torment. Lastly, men he saw, in blind and
self-congratulating ignorance made their beds
on earth’s small and fleeting form, asserting that
their bodies were their souls, had no need of kings
and Gods, and were “okay” if the need arose to
bargain with a vengeful God: their sins were forgivable
by virtue of their veniality, not by virtue of the tender
grace of God and Christ, not by virtue of the blood
spurted, spent, flowing thick down Calvary’s dusty
slate—Christ cried aloud and wept, that in his years
on earth he had not seen the beginning of depravity,
not a tenth of the unspeakable rot and horror his
precious hand’s work would commit—his blood was
sufficient but alas could not be painted on the
lintel of every door, only the few who wanted it,
and had humility enough to say that
they were sinners.

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