perched atop His Mercy Seat.
and tweets at His followers
and squawks at His deniers.
as the Golden Pot broils over its rim
of water stripped of its worth,
no longer does healthy manna reside
in the wake of this storm;
Just as the birds of the morning
signaling the dawn of a pleasant day,
of Him clearing His throat; a reminder.
to entering His presence in the Holy of Holies?
Have I looked into His eyes
only to live with regret for all eternity;
arguably, a feat far worse than personified stone.
Is that what this emptiness is?
Is that what caused the clouds to roll and wrestle over my bouts above me?
or is this the Hell they speak of?
for Sins that have yet to be defined
as created by an All Loving God?
The swirling gray clouds circle