Death of the Devil
Tears are falling from the sky.
The Angels,
They weep for their fallen brother,
Now for a second time.
They watch as his broken wings shrivel into nothingness,
And his Kingdom built on the bones of the forgotten
Crumbles into dust so thick it is no longer dust,
But a blanket of false hope and rage,
That covers everything that meets the eye.
The Angels bow their heads,
Praying for their own,
Their once gleaming halos fade into a dull
Glint.
And as the tears disguised as rain
Turn into a tsunami
Brought on by God letting out a cry of despair,
He falls to His knees,
Taking breaths that shake the Earth.
He screams into the darkness,
For He knows,
That even His capabilities
Do not rival those of Death.
He curls into Himself,
Shutting out all he created.
His angels gather to console Him,
Not knowing their presence makes Him feel like He's suffocating.
And in a fit of grief,
He reaches down,
Down past the Earth,
Down past the pits that used to cage broken wings,
Down into the depths of nothing,
From which He pulls the ashes of His son.
He holds them close to His chest,
As one would a young child frightened of a storm,
And as he whispers His final goodbye,
He allows the wind made of his breath
To carry the power of what was,
Into the souls of what remains.
What once was Angels surrounding God,
Are now Gods surrounding the empty shell of what once was,
What is,
And what can never be,
Again
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