July 10, 2013

Purist of white light shining through my very being


A history of misunderstood actions and a vision of lies

Cherubim flutter from cloud to cloud their baby youth keeping you in awe

Waiting for the real Cherubim to come and slay their pointless existence, a thousands

wings with a thousand eyes to watch them die

We have created a lie from Gods army

That is what they are…. You do know that don’t you?

Soldiers for the cause

Defenders of the truth and slayers of the ignorant

In truth they hate us

You must know that they hate us

The first-born always envies the youngest as they watch them showered with their parent’s constant attentions

Always the last to feel the warmth of love

Always the first to feel the wrath of anger

Sword in hand they do as they are told

Michael…. My protector?

My murderer?

My brother

I see no difference between man and Angel

They have their good points we have ours

They have their faults we have ours

Nobody is perfect

Not even God

I mean he created us didn’t he?

Wiped the slate clean and started again

Still the same out come

Such is life

Maybe that is what he thought

Can’t change them might as well let them grow

Almost like a weed you come to love in a garden of blossoming flowers

Keeping them away from the blooms yet always nurturing them just as much

Our sharp thorns waiting to hurt the protector

Growing alone in his Garden of Eden

Growing unaware of those around us

You know you can only grow so much

Before you start to die

Unless we produce a bloom as colorful as those around us

Forever alone shall we be

As Angels come to water our roots

Keeping the souls below the soil alive

They whisper to us what they are told to say

Michael the chief Gardner shall one day stop bringing the watering can of life

As Gabriel blows the horn marking the time of the harvest

Reap what you sow

There are no winds in this garden to spread your seeds anew

When we die we shall vanish

Gabriel sits and waits for the signal to pluck this weed from a garden to beautiful to share with the likes of us

Michael pauses each day before showering us with the waters of God to replenish our roots

The older brother jealous of the youngest passes the can to the fallen one

Trusting him to continue the job

Knowing he wont

Our time is drawing near

Yet still no blossom does appear