The Tide, Part XI

Exile! The Watchers sweep in some
strange unison of sentiment down
to the lower airs, because their
spirits reek and their intent was
always against the animal man,
whose special place enraged them,
and the grace arranged for them
by the master G, whose name they
would never again forbear to speak,
it was detested by them—“Why do
pig-like things like these get the
full measure of your patience, and
we are held to the highest standard?”
There was no delay in righting what
was now so obviously wrong, and they,
the old grizzled ones were expelled
before their power grew and they were
able to annihilate what had been set
forth—as it were they were permitted
with shortened hands to torment man,
not knowing it was God’s glory that
would be shown when sons of darkness
deliberately admitted sin and chose
what good and terrible light was Christ.
Yet their every step was set against the tenets
of the perfect Word, and they hated the
process of forgiveness—they wanted guilt
and for all eternity, but Christ’s wounds
would not be stopped nor stemmed and
their efforts tore them broader—blood,
blood was in the humans’ hearts and
souls and very mouths; was all they spoke,
for something greater than the greatest
anguish was erupting: heaven’s gate asunder,
plan complete, our total unity with God!

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can read it here for free, or get it for your e-reader on iBooks, Amazon or Kobo. Or you can just say you read the book, and donate five bucks down below. Go on.

Gabriel Muoio


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