The midnight slaughter

The midnight slaughter.
The cry of the saints.

The sinners shall weep,
And the dead shall rise again.

The condemned redeemed,
Let the whole world sing.

The oceans will be land,
And lands will be seas.

The wind will scorch,
The rain will sear,
The clouds are red,
The skies turned thundering black.

The birds will flee,
But the fishes wont swim.

The beasts will scream,
As the mark is steamed.

Let not one shriek,
At the sight of horror dreams come true.

Let no blood be shed,
For the land shall be holy.

Here comes the man,
He finally come.

Here comes his counterpart,
A battered soul once sang:

The man and woman,
Meant as one.
But they walked separate ways,
Not Thy way be done.

No child will be born,
Though fertility is not thwarted.

No love will be spelt,
For the book has not taught.
No hope saw.
Much is lost.

Nothingness will fill the heart of both,
And empty both from within.

A dream is a cause,
A cost of much disturb.

As the seekers are captured and dreamers are blinded,
The geese are killed for a festival for months.

Silence are heard,
No voice has sounded.
For the dungeon of so deep keep everything quiet.

There is no peace but a fake pretence.
There is no justice to sing, or to ease the pain.

A evil will reign for the time to be,
But soon to be the kingdom wins.

Why shout and cry, or blame the sky?
Only the praise from within will shake Thy's mind.