Canto I
At night, my curled form is sleeping,
yet glory descends to awake,
my eyes blinded, myself afeared
the presence of God is near.
His eyes of fire, robe of snow,
six wings beat thunderous air.
Body chiseled, better than diamond,
lightning illuminating his form.
The Angel of the Lord descends,
his sun-bright sword is poised.
The ethereal aura stings sore eyes,
my feeble soul grows faint.
“What need have you of me?” I ask.
my head dipped low on dusty floor.
The mighty figure touches earth,
I dare not glimpse his sandal.
“Your mighty prayer, of Solomon's kind,
has begged the ears of God.
Yet for this wisdom, you must see
the Gates of Hell unbarred.”
Earthly palm grasps glorious fingers,
an eyeless night consumes.
Highly trustworthy is this angel,
right-hand servant of God.
On hasty wings surging far forward,
plunge he and I beyond.
A worldly compass cannot discern,
this holy highway trod.
Earless am I, as we travel,
no shrieks nor howls are heard.
“Where are those suffering, the torture, sorrow?”
My guide shakes his head, unconcerned.
No fumes or gases stifle the air,
no red-hot embers burn.
Where are the flames to torture now?
A scentless misery endures.
The void of nothing, no stars do blink,
light and hope now banished.
The Enemy lies within the space,
yet senselessness endures.
Inaudible, invisible, inodorous,
for formless are those opposed,
and absent are their traces—vacant,
unreturning, is the Lord.
Canto II
“As Evil is devoid of good,
so is Hell empty of form,
excepting the gates, now wrenched open,
by crucified king destroyed.”
“Where lies the Devil, mischievous in form,
whose falsehood is so notorious?”
The Angel warrior gazes past,
his mark yet goes unspotted.
Murk and nothingness, all-encompass,
but his blazing pupils discern.
“Therein lies the Prince of Evil,
whom darkness worships, adores.”
The safeguard shield he draws beside,
his mighty sword aflame.
Absence throws forth a voice proclaiming,
the name of God to defame.
As a weary laden soldier treads,
Lord’s Angel, goes awaiting.
Gates loom before, their iron clanking,
eerie in stagnant floating.
“Your heart prepare, sojourner dear,
for alas your Maker won.
The victory ours, the battle done,
lies the godless here on.”
Utters he this, robe gently flowing,
before manic cackling echoes.
There the Devil perches, giddy,
smiling the stars of Hell.
Soothing voice and beautiful face,
an angel who once knew,
but turned his back, not fearing the Lord
his tyranny to ensue.
“Dear child,” he quips, blue eyes implore,
“Why take you down this path
to see a Hellish lord so ‘lost,’
yet he fiercely fights back?”
Offering a wink and a grin so generously,
My heartstrings start tugging, so willing.
I lose my grasp of Angel’s hand
my soul tumbles, slipping down.
Canto III
Snagged on iron, I precariously dangle
the void below beckons, yearning,
the Gates’ mouths set wide to chomping.
Hope flies, and clashes, the Devil charging.
Swords are sparking in searing showers,
Angel attacks, locked in deafening battle
my grip slackens, doom awaiting.
Blue eyes now black, rage all consuming.
Skin turns cloudy, the air is putrid,
my senses are awakening.
The coming deliverance a beacon
ignites my heart, glowing.
A horde descends, the Angels radiant,
the demons emerge with form.
Hell takes its shape, the Lord approaching,
the senselessness undone.
Fire and iron, the fight continuing,
and Earth the battle eternal,
with joy I’m saved, my Savior protecting,
emptiness lays waste no more.
Secure and tight, the angels are guarding,
until I rest at home.
Then one by one they vanish, unnoticed
except Angel of the Lord.
“The snags of the World are so enticing,
have no shame for your desperate falling,
but beware when death is near,
the Lord will be your guide.”
“But what,” I say “is the fate of they
who God-hating went astray?
I saw no man, or woman there
in the blackness of ghastly Hell.”
“They weep all day, their teeth no more,
for gnashing and sorrow consume.
They endure without shape, or love, only hate;
their God has them abandoned.
“For God is love and all hope which flows,
their rejection of Him their fate,
for nothing worse than a lover lost,
mourn forever the unrequited.
“Your wisdom, is your treasured gift
to discern the will of God.
Turn not from Him, but live in love
and teach of your safekeeping.”
So he like others fades away,
his six wings all a-fluttering,
and I, now wearied, drift back to sleep,
the dawn so soon approaching.
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