They sing songs of war and victory; a rebel's old dream of overthrown thrones and the fall of kings and whole kingdoms, while the storm brews overhead. Thunder and lightning, gathering to strike them dead at a command. Power.
There are spirits intertwined between their words, promises that will always be broken intermixed in their actions and thousands listen to them, hold them in high esteem.
A whole people gather to drink from their cup, pouring the poison down their already engorged bellies. And spirits murmur, as they quake to their death. The death of a spirit is the beginning of destruction.
Whole cities will be destroyed, all that man has worked for, quenched. Their usurped empires will be ground to dirt, and their delusive power will be shown as nothing.
Whole cities will be destroyed, all that man has worked for, quenched. Their usurped empires will be ground to dirt, and their delusive power will be shown as nothing.
A man in authority over men has power, but he is nothing in the midst of a man who has authority over the heavens and the earth. One who is in command, both in the physical and spiritual realm.
So you who mourn will be comforted, and you who hunger, will hunger no more. All the last shall be first. You who weep now, shall laugh again and all the lonely, will be lonely no more.
All the last shall be first.
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