If you wish to take the very world
And be it so, take its many wonders
I guess it so, you shall shake this world
Till all the wonders come falling downward.
Take the Earth and all its many glories
Give to it what you very well much will.
Turn it to its end, at the Maker’s Flames,
Or turn its face to your seat in the Air.
But remember that I, and I alone,
Hold this created world in My great palms.
Your cosmos diabolicus, a fake!
A meager illusion created by you!
Now come, you who bring the world to death
Your false endings end and your own end comes
The vintage is ripe, the wrath has now come
Your folly shall show, you serpent of old
This is not the way the world shall end
By a man, or serpent, of his own strength
But by My palm shall I take hold the Earth
When all have tried to take it to their own
Then shall I squeeze that vintage from the Earth
And give it to you, My long gone angel
Then it will show the true fall of the Earth
Which, in truth, is but the beginning’s start.
Yes, when the comings and goings have past
The music will chime, the colors will show
Yes, how they will truly show the Herald
That Herald of the New World to come.
To this ending, your wish will never show
Paradise Lost, taken back once again
The Grapes of Wrath, never to spill again.
And your shaking hands, to move no longer.



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