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He flies at the Supreme Command,
Not stopping to think or doubt,
Into the direction where
God's sleeve stretches out
—God's merciful hand.

They descend with lightnings
Submerged under the stratus,
Whose flapping motion unravels
Unevenly dispensed justice
—God's silver wings.

She rises to the occasion
Trailing a blood-dirtied gown,
Telling a grand story of battle
For the everlasting crown
—God's inexorable passion!

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The following comments are for "God Thence"
by tinsoldier

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