Angel Of Love, and The greatness of God,
Hadraniel who guided Moses, to spare the rod,
Standing two full million miles tall,
Lightning produced at each syllable called,
A Keeper of the Second Heavenly Gate,
He was tricked as some Angels escaped,
If not for this instance, there might not be,
A single Nephilim in history,
Once rebuked by God for failing,
Hadraniel has since found naught worth saying,
Standing mute, a sentinel for the Bound,
He wished to scour the Earth, shake the ground,
Given the option, he would indeed,
Bring all missing Angels to their knees,
To beg forgiveness from He Who Gives,
And to seek in The Father, to yet again live.

And it Was that The Holy Father created Man in his image with Adam
And as well it Was that Eve followed in the recurrent fathom.
So that balance was brought about to the world of men,
The Fallen, Son Of The Morning, leading them,
Sinned most grievously upon the Father Of The World,
That in the End, The Lord found something to be abhorred
Through many Ages and upon battlefields Heavenly and Demonic,
The Earth then found its paradise to become quite rotted,
The blood of the fallen Angelic creations
Stained so the ground, that interpretations
Failed to meet the descriptive magnitude,
To begin to scribe the crimson-red deluge.
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What seemed to be Eternity had passed,
More than some, sick of fighting, took chance,
To live, to escape to the safety of Earth,
To baptize themselves in what once was paradise and birth,
God’s Angels and Lucifer’s commanders both
Fled to live with hope of peace and wroth
The beginnings of the end, without intent,
The destruction would result in the death of the children,
Created of Man, Angel, And Devil’s mixed seed,
The Nephilim created with all spliced genes,
Superior to Our Father’s first,
In strength, in mind, in spiritual girth,
Recorded Here are Scriptures of the last
God-like children from the past,
Describing their Parents in personal detail,
Shedding light then, on where modern day fails

And everything went to hell...
The bodies lined the streets,
Children called to their mothers
As their homes fell to fallout and riot.
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The ease of calimty has inevitably fallen,
Contemporary situations evade news of appalling
Images of self destruction
This fallacy proved, lead from corruption,
The final fall of society,
This poor excuse of humanity,
Will serve as example to those who may live,
We can hope their children won't so easily give.

I watched everything I loved about you dissolve,
Sitting alone through time while my flesh did crawl,
Of all things in this world left sacred,
I suffered your recanting without such merit,
I despise everything that you've since done,
And what hurts more is what I've become,
Suffice it to say, I am no more,
You've naught for me, decayed, you adorn.

Recording that of which time was spent,
It must be stated with some lament,
Mankind was never prepared for that
Which they saught so vehemently sat,
Upon the throne of their own faults,
Theology differentiated by default,
And by which we would derive
The definition of demise.
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Annihilate me through my own inner goals,
And press upon my morals once told,
To keep my kin so lively and free,
Rid them of their depraved disease,
The freedoms and liberties of once passed down,
Caress the minds of a generation endowed,
Subject to sin and objectification,
Of an overly popular, judgmental nation,
An internal strife "To thineself always be true"
Yet knowing not what realties imbue,
Distressed, ingested ideals are formed
And peaceful requisitions are abhorred,
Selection is distraught and vague,
Left frustrated are those who live for today,
I must comment, request, and repent
That in honor of life, meaning is spent,
Lifeless are we, all left longing,
Know that in this life, there is nothing.

Breathe in to me,
Exhale your anguish,
Forever mourning
The whispered pains
Of which from you I relieve.
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If I could but conquer this distance spanning
From an ocean's lack of understanding,
Gladly suffering so that I may
See you at the end of a somber day,
Awakening within a tempest's wrath,
With the storm's warm water, I'll run you a bath,
So soothing draught and not without sensation,
I want not rid of you, the finest creation,
That when I expire, and look upon Death's peaceful image,
I will throughout ten thousand lifetimes search for your visage.

By the light of my last candle
Fighting the void, vastness of the night,
I endeavor to use the remaining ink
To paint a worded portrait of your sight.
I struggle to find eloquent metaphor,
Even find hardship with this quibbling prose
To record, to brush enough detail
Of exactly how my heart’s composed.
With bated breath, I do inhale you,
With staggered gait, I am withdrawn,
With gleaming eyes I do perceive you,
I wish it real to my last dawn.
Pure happenstance that I had been,
But so easily pulled into your mind,
However, you in mine always remain,
From when I first caught your steady gaze in time.
There was a fire inside me once,
That turned all therein to ash,
But you became my sweet lolling breeze
That wisped away the cremated past.
You sedate the Evil within me,
So far that you’d never know it was there,
And yet each day away between us
Brings closer my poisoning the air.
The tiresome, bleak creeks of old wind-leaning pines,
Draped across the gnarled forest where all things go to die,
Mean nothing to me in all ignorant omnicide;
I would give the world for you, my sweet paradise.