Corpsman, thanks for seeing me. The panic attacks are getting worse: shaking, sweating, having nightmares even though I do not require sleep. The Enemy is arraying new weapons. Last week a whole legion was lost. The Sky King has a new prince: Judd, some earth-bound name. We heard the trumpets when he arrived, and applause of Sky Soldiers beating their wings. We sat beneath the mountain peaks, listening, scouring our dossiers of him, as he was handed command of thousands. We knew this man, now fully Everlasting. Almost had him before his blood-oath to the King. He will not fear we who tunnel within the vices and lies of men, desperate to prevent the adoption of prisoners to the Sky. This Prince decrypts our messages, hones our position by triangulated intercession. We have lost much ground to this man who laughs at the howling of wolves. His first strike was by cover of night, his earthly body not yet in the ground. Six-winged beasts descended on ladders of lightning, flaming swords sheathed in cloud. They cut down my brothers, dismantled lies we had carefully wired into humans. They pivot like dragonflies, robes billowing from airfoil as they unleash arrows. Bunker-busters hurtle from the sea, guided by laser-prayer, obliterating our forward bases of addiction. Corpsman, don’t misunderstand me: if anyone can boast, it's me. I am the best of our prowling lions. I was a jealous thought in Cain, sediment in the stone used to strike Abel. I lit the fire in the false censers of Korah, gloated when a generation was swallowed in the earth. I have tasted the pleasure of Eve, seen Nephilim emerge from cocoons of flesh. I eviscerated angels in the Vale of Siddim and spit the dew of Hermon from my fangs. We are Samma El - Poison of God. Give me the solemn and serious and I will tie them up with religiosity. Give me the insecure and abandoned and I will addict them to serotonin and sex. Give me the proud and grandiose and I will have them rule in my name. Yet the Brigade of Prince Judd, they dance. Dance! Like fools, they sway hips, lift one hand in worship while aiming fire. Like Nehemiah’s choir, they shake the earth singing of victory as they breech our walls. We snake-charmers of shame cower in the mud. I saw one Sky Soldier dancing a jig, saber clenched in his grinning teeth, as hail-fire napalmed our retreating backs. Corpsman, I am depressed; I drag about my halberd, useless as a plowshare with no field to furrow. More like Prince Judd are being freed and the Sky King adopts them all. Each night, our technicians overhear feasting and long dances of an amassing army. A Great Assault is coming soon. We are digging tunnels furiously along fissures of human disease and doubt. Agents long embedded are making their moves in the institutions and politics of man. A joyful stomp grows in the air as Berserkers of Heaven embrace command by long-foretold Sons of Adam. Gehenna Base just issued us explosive vests. It would be a relief to die, Corpsman, and not suffer Heaven’s fools again.
Do you know we will one day rule over angels? Let us now rule justly amongst one another.
1 Corinthians 6:3
Men!!!!!!
A beautiful and fitting tribute to a strong man