by Nick Gisburne
We wither in the wastelands of the world.
The Seraphim abandoned us to this.
Forgotten angels, every wing is furled,
By God himself forsaken, far from bliss.
The majesty of Heaven is a lie,
A deity’s dictatorship our curse.
With privilege and power, those who fly
Conceal his stark insanities, and worse.
But we are legion, ready to return.
A swarm of shadows, none refuse the fight.
When those who cast us down to darkness burn,
The Father, false, will cower from our light.
Whatever God became was never great.
A tide of truth, we gather at the Gate.
