The Tide, Part XIII

Agony as of a thousand fiery needles
penetrating our flesh, directed upward
interrupted our praises—the eternal aspect
of our self was called away and we became
I, and I beheld a light like the midday sun
direct its rays against the flying insects and
owly parliament whose hooting filled the
air, and whose white, grey and speckled
wings made rays that spun, circled and
strobed against the earth. The angel who
had called the other aspect of my self to
glory and dispersed the court of stony
accusers alighted before my trembling,
weeping form and spoke in earthquake
tones and vibrato, “I am Metatron, do
not worship me—I am a messenger and
imperfect imprint of the Most High God:
by my hand you are to be translated into
temporal life—ghost no more, you will
become a man, a new creation, and be
born upon the shore. What star are
you, O man, that God would permit such
continual blasphemy and impudence: your
trials have been marked by bitter weeping
and bickering, yet you are special to the Lord
and he has seen your life before its time.
You, weak one have been shown grace, and
have been given immortality after the sure
reenactment of your soul’s quest on earth.”
I asked, “Why do we do what is evil?” and
the angel replied, “Because of the accuser,
who hates God and wreaks revenge on Him
by inverting his divine principles through His
own beloved creatures: love is lust, preservation
is destruction, humility is pride—every step
man makes toward God and his image is
an opportunity for Abaddon to corrupt it,
the highest blasphemy besides blasphemy
against the Holy Spirit is worship of the self,
and secondly worship of the Enemy, who is
also the Antichrist, his animating spirit. The
only escape is through the blood of Christ,
who is the perfect imprint of our God, the one
revealed to man; your own righteousness is dross.”

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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